<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Roasted by emptyheadspace</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28505847">Roasted</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptyheadspace/pseuds/emptyheadspace'>emptyheadspace</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Attempt at Humor, Bokuto Koutarou &amp; Kuroo Tetsurou are Bros, Flirting, Gay Panic, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Mentioned Kagehina, Minor Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Misunderstandings, Pining, akaashi wears a dress in one chapter, but in the best and funniest way possible, konoha is Tired™, they do yoga at some point, tsukishima is even more Tired™</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:33:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,746</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28505847</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptyheadspace/pseuds/emptyheadspace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started out as a stupid idea. </p><p>Bokuto had gotten a new job at that cafe down the street that sold novelty charmed drinks — coffee with two pumps of charisma, or tea with a kick of humility, gimmicky drinks like that. Kuroo was completely supportive of that, until Bokuto came to him for help practising making drinks. Everyone knows that Kuroo, freelance exorcist extraordinaire, was not a potion maker. So how the hell did he end up here helping Bokuto make a love potion for their two very hot neighbors?</p><p>Akaashi and Kenma are well aware of the crazy antics their neighbors could get up to. So it wasn’t a shock to anyone when those two came over offering drinks out of nothing but the “kindness of their hearts”. Unfortunately for Bokuto and Kuroo, their neighbors were more than informed on just what kind of drinks these were. So what do they do? Pretend to drink it and play a prank on the unsuspecting duo, of course. </p><p>Now that both their neighbors were definitely and totally under the influence of a love spell, Bokuto and Kuroo have to band together as bros and do everything in their earthly power to undo the magic and restore balance to both their lives and their hearts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>113</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. balcony blues</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have written this story as my piece for the HQ Urban Fantasy Bang. It is already completed, but I have decided to post it in a few batches. Two lovely artists have made art for this story, which I will link in future chapters, so you have that to look forward to. Have fun as you venture beyond this point and read ahead.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sunset was always gorgeous from up here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo didn’t know if he could ever get tired of the view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all coming together. The light breeze tousling his hair. The smell of distant rain that would hopefully grace the city later in the night. The beautiful palette of reds and golds and purples streaking across the sky. There was nothing he enjoyed more than sitting out here and marvelling at the impending night after a shower—a poignant smile on his face and a Catnip Cooler Chocolate Drizzle Crunch in his hand (with a pump of nostalgia, of course). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Snacks, snacks, snacks~” Bokuto sang to nobody in particular as he carted the boxes over to the balcony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo thought he would never succumb to the cursed trend of gimmicky drinks that was running round town as of late, but here he was. Sighing, he lifted the cup to his mouth and took another sip of chocolate-y goodness. If he was going to fall into the void of trendy obscurity, then he would die a happy man at least. There were few in the world who knew of his one glaring weakness: his sweet tooth—and he would like to keep it that way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you at least get the croissants?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto blinked at him owlishly, his face descending into horror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, that’s what I forgot!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Man, those are the only good things from that place anymore,” Kuroo sighed, a longing look in his eyes as he thought about the buttery goodness that could’ve been his. “What’s the point of working there if you’re not gonna get the good stuff?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, at least I’ve got the cream puffs!” Bokuto retorted, holding out the box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Begrudgingly, Kuroo accepted, shovelling a sugary cream puff into his mouth. It wasn’t as good as the croissants, but he had to admit that it had its merits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was their little routine—to park their backsides on their beautiful little balcony every evening and watch the setting sun together. Kuroo dared to say that there was nothing quite like bro bonding over sugary drinks and snacks and the inherent romanticism of the setting sun. He was feeling a little easy today, a little more relaxed—but maybe it was the drink flowing through his veins and softening his heart. He was falling for this whole gimmicky drink thing </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> too easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, the setting sun wasn’t the only thing they were here to watch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, this is kind of stalker-ish,” Kuroo remarked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah.” Bokuto bit into a cream puff, face melting into delight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right across from their own sat another balcony, where the hazy glow of holographic projections and the quiet lilt of music drifted by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their neighbors must be working again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soft tune was hardly something that Kuroo or Bokuto would pick out themselves, but it was relaxing and ambient and everything their balcony was not. They were practically wading ankle-deep in a sea of pastry boxes and takeout cartons, completely ignoring the side table fixture and chairs that they had agreed on when they first moved in. What’s the point of installing balcony furniture if they were just going to end up sitting on the floor anyway?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Kuroo craned his neck a little and leaned over the very sad and scrawny potted plant on his right, he could catch a glimpse of the shadowy silhouettes that belonged to their two neighbors. Their two very pretty neighbors: one by the name of Kenma, and the other Akaashi. They hardly ever spared a glimpse in his and Bokuto’s direction, much less talked to them—but when they did, it was like the angels were singing and the birds were regaling them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was how Bokuto and Kuroo began their daily balcony routine, if only to catch sight of what they could never have. Admittedly, they knew how creepy it sounded, camping out on one’s balcony just to watch their neighbors at work. But could you really blame them when this was the only way they could ever see heaven?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This tastes like sweet cardboard,” Kuroo said, only half-jokingly. He held up a chocolate eclair to the light, inspecting it with distaste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Food’s food, and free food’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> food.” Bokuto shrugged, grabbing another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gotta say,” Kuroo snorted. “The drinks are not all bad, but I draw the line at cardboard eclairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More for me.” Bokuto flashed him a grin, snatching the whole box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay but, is the free food worth the horror of customer service, though?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto thought long and hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo burst out laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto had gotten the job not too long ago because he thought it’d be a good way to earn some extra money while he played volleyball. He had run all the way home—sweaty and excited—yelling and whooping about how he was going to be a real life barista. Kuroo was only glad to support his best friend, even if it meant clogging his arteries with every sweet and decadent drink that Bokuto brought home every other night. Maybe he should feel more ashamed of jumping on the trendy drink bandwagon, but he was losing himself quickly to the euphoria of every sip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m never looking at customers the same way again,” Bokuto groaned through a laugh. “Their requests are getting more ridiculous every day!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo snorted, nearly spilling his drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lady came in today asking—” Bokuto gasped, trying to speak through his own laughter. “Asking—ha! She was asking. Asking!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take your time, we’ve only got all night,” Kuroo laughed, trying to contain his own snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—ha! Sheaskedifwecouldmakeherhusbandbetterinbed,” Bokuto managed to choke out in between heaving wheezes, barely able to stop himself from tipping over backwards and falling into a pile of boxes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo exploded, his ugly laugh coming out full force.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She asked! She actually asked!” Tears were threatening to stream out of Bokuto’s eyes. “With the most serious face I’ve ever seen—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo was going to have a heart attack at this rate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, calm down, we gotta calm down,” he tried, waving his cream puff around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was a fatal mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You!” Bokuto only started laughing harder, trying to swipe away the tears in his eyes. “The cream puff, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> cream puff—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“FUCK—” Kuroo clutched at his stomach, trying to make it stop. “It hurts, it actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span>, oh fuck—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hah!” Bokuto yelped, not even trying to stop laughing at this point. “My cheeks hurt!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you sound so happy about it???”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Bokuto exclaimed, still sounding very happy about it. “Stop waving it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a special kind of torture, laughing so hard that tears were streaming down your face and your stomach twisting into a painful knot of sheer glee. Kuroo had never understood how they always arrived at this point, but here they were, laughing and wheezing at the strangest shit on their own balcony at 8p.m. on a Saturday night. Quite the exciting life they were leading, if he were to say so himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, stop, stop, stop, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Kuroo gasped, trying to sit back up. “Stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not the one waving the fucking cream puff around,” Bokuto sniggered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m not the one who laughed in the middle of telling a story!” Kuroo yelled back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me a break! We both have shit humor and you know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo sighed, still grasping his stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We really do, Bo, we really do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akaashi wasn’t aware that they had </span>
  <em>
    <span>hyenas</span>
  </em>
  <span> in this part of the country.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ugly snorts and painful laughter drifted in from the balcony next door, long surpassing the calm music that he had chosen for the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are they laughing about this time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beats me,” Kenma said, without looking up from his various assortment of screens. “Something about coffee and...cream puffs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi let out a quiet sigh and nodded in acceptance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds about right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was surprised that nobody had tried to report their neighbors for noise pollution yet. From impromptu karaoke sessions to the manic high-pitched laughing that the whole row of blocks could most likely hear, there was plenty of evidence to build a solid case against them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were they staring again?” he ventured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup,” Kenma replied simply, pulling up more projections around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quiet beeping noises punctuated the music every time he tapped on something. A black holographic cat slinked around in the air with a hypnotizing animation, fixing Akaashi with a curious stare. It moved with a fluid grace, realistic fur rippling across its back as it pounced and leapt and jumped. Then, it morphed into a gnarly ice beast, snarling with a frankly impressive set of teeth shaped like icicles, and fur crusted with ice that was meant to inject pure horror into the poor souls who subjected themselves willingly to the thralls of virtual horror gaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a bit creepy.” Akaashi wasn’t sure if he was referring to their neighbors or the cat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma remained unfazed, tossing the energetical projection into the virtual trash. A cold fizzled through the air every time he moved his hands or opened something new. That’s why Akaashi was currently bundled up in a thick and cozy tweed coat, even in the dead of summer. It must have looked ridiculous to anyone looking in on them. Their apartment was never warm, which he did not mind at all; he did love thick fabrics and winter wear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t you just say that the beefy one was pretty cute the other day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did no such thing,” Akaashi retorted, setting down his pen for the first time that night. “And Bokuto-san is not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> beefy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma looked up, his hands hovering in mid-air. Lines of calm ice blue energy circled between them—with pull-down menus of buttons and sliders that Akaashi couldn’t even begin to understand the function of. There was a reason that he didn’t work in the magical tech industry, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi much preferred the calling of literature. For now, he was stuck in the editing department with a demanding boss and multiple color scans of moving shounen manga panels to look over, but he was simply biding his time. One did not simply get to the top without facing the trials and tribulations of correcting translation errors and poor sound effect choices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma turned around to look at a still-laughing Bokuto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks pretty beefy to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi flashed him an unamused look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t, don’t turn around,” he sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying.” Kenma shrugged, even though a small smile was clearly playing at the corner of his lips. “Pretty beefy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah? What about Kuroo-san?” Akaashi feigned innocence. “And that tall, lean, stupidly </span>
  <em>
    <span>gorgeous</span>
  </em>
  <span> physique of hi—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought so.” Akaashi smiled to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noisy as they may be, it was near impossible to deny the infuriatingly good shape their neighbors were in. Akaashi couldn’t deny that even he was subject to the mortal temptation of sneaking a glance at Bokuto’s muscled shoulders lumbering sleepily past the window when he set off for work in the morning. Which should really have been a fucking mystery, considering the fact that said neighbors were currently shoveling sweet treats and sugary drinks into their mouths as they cackled maniacally away into the night. Was there no justice in this universe of theirs?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi’s very first encounter with Bokuto was characterized with clumsiness and a lot of confusion afterwards. Bokuto had tripped over his own two feet when he first saw Akaashi, and it took a whole hour of babbling—about death and being close to heaven and seeing an angel—for him to finally recover from the shock of face-planting into the concrete and introducing himself with a sheepish smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo wasn’t much better off, from what Akaashi had heard from Kenma. He had frozen in the corridor after emerging from his apartment—blinking like a cat who had landed on all four from a fall—only to hastily shut the door in Kenma’s face. There were rumors going around about where the unholy shrieking that followed afterwards could’ve come from, but Akaashi and Kenma were well aware. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The laughter was still going on, having died and revived a few times. From the sounds of it, one could surmise that Bokuto was slapping his knee and that Kuroo was slapping Bokuto, and that they were both slapping the ground at some point in their attempts to stop laughing. When did Akaashi ever decide that working outside on the balcony was a good idea?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, he loved watching the city lights and the slow creep of clouds across the night sky as he worked. He was a sucker for the bustling sounds of the cars going by in the distance and the sounds of the city coming to life in the night. There was something so </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span> about looking up into the vast sky, into the deep blue, and feeling so small but so full of hope and potential and change. It put him in a creative mood and soothed out all the nerves, and that was when he could get his best work done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked out at the city. It was crazy to think that in every single one of those windows, dark or lit, there was a story. Many stories. People whom those stories belonged to. It got him thinking about his own story, and how many other paths would cross with his own. He wondered if one day he would ever find the one whose path would entwine so deeply with his own that together they would go on and on. It was twistedly beautiful, the way the universe worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts were interrupted by another wave of ugly laughter from next door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi sighed as he picked up his tea, which had gone cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Life was never easy when you had neighbors like theirs</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. whose birthday is it again?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bokuto and Kuroo have a serious discussion. Kenma roasts Bokuto for not having pants on. Konoha is Tired™.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>not me inserting some minor sakuatsu into a completely irrelevant story</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We need to go all out.”</p><p>“He deserves only the best!” Bokuto affirmed.</p><p>“I say we take him for a night out on the town,” Kuroo suggested seriously.</p><p>“It’s only right,” Bokuto agreed, nodding.</p><p>“Do you two ever shut up?”</p><p>They whirled around to face a very disgruntled Kenma leaning out the window. A gust of cold air whacked them in the face the moment he unfastened the window. </p><p>“And can you put on some pants?” </p><p>Bokuto had the decency to look sheepish, at least. He hopped around on one foot, quickly tugging his pants up on the other leg and tucking in his hoodie with as much grace as a bear on steroids. They were standing in the shared corridor space between their own apartment and the one that Kenma and Akaashi lived in.</p><p>“Good morning, you look like you haven’t slept in five days,” Kuroo said, a little too cheerily for someone who was awake at five in the morning.</p><p>“It’s only been four,” Kenma deadpanned. </p><p>“Wait, are you serious?” Kuroo’s face dropped, with a little too much concern, earning a slightly amused smile from Kenma.</p><p>“I’m joking,” he replied. “Kind of.”</p><p>“Well, getting more rest is always a good idea,” Bokuto suggested.</p><p>“You’re one to talk,” Kuroo huffed. “You barely got two hours of sleep.”</p><p>“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Bokuto admitted.</p><p>“It’s <em> five </em> in the morning,” Kenma pointed out. </p><p>“There are people who actually wake up in the morning,” Kuroo said. “Like they’re supposed to, you know?”</p><p>“And there are people who <em> don’t </em> wake up half the building with them in the morning,” Kenma said back, unamused. “Like they’re supposed to, you know?”</p><p>“Got me there,” Kuroo replied, throwing his hands up.</p><p>“What’s all this, <em> ruckus </em> about anyway?”</p><p>“It’s Ruddy’s birthday!” Bokuto said, a little too loud. </p><p>“<em> Whose </em> birthday?” Kenma was sure he would regret asking.</p><p>“Ruddy,” Kuroo said, as if Kenma was supposed to know who the fuck Ruddy was. “Our chicken.”</p><p>“You have a chicken in your apartment?” </p><p>“Well, yes. A pottery chicken.”</p><p>“He sits on our toilet bowl,” Bokuto added, helpfully.</p><p>“Let me get this straight,” Kenma started. “You’re being noisy in the morning because you’re talking about a birthday celebration for a fake chicken.”</p><p>“Hey, don’t talk about Ruddy like that,” Bokuto said with a serious face. “He can’t hear you from here, but his feelings will get hurt.”</p><p>Kenma had no idea if the man was being serious or not, and at this point, he didn’t want to know.</p><p>“That’s right,” Kuroo said, grinning like he was proud of himself. “This is a very important occasion, Ruddy’s been with us for a whole year now!</p><p>“Important enough to disturb the peace?”</p><p>“It’s not our fault that noise travels in this building.” He was still grinning that infuriating grin. “Did we wake you up or something, kitten?”</p><p>Kenma grimaced at the nickname.</p><p>“Maybe it has more to do with the fact that you’re standing right outside our window,” he said. “And no, you didn’t wake me up. I was never asleep to begin with.”</p><p>“Are you serious?” Kuroo’s face dropped once again. “You need to sleep!”</p><p>“I will, when two idiots stop talking outside my window and scram.”</p><p>“Fine, fine,” Kuroo said, getting ready to move. “We’ll get out of your hair so you can go and get some beauty sleep.”</p><p>“Yeah, I need to head off to work anyway,” Bokuto said, following suit. </p><p>“Fantastic,” Kenma murmured, getting ready to go back to his room.</p><p>“One more thing,” Kuroo said, spinning around.</p><p>Sighing, Kenma turned around. He was <em> definitely </em>going to regret this.</p><p>“We’re getting takeout and celebrating Ruddy’s birthday next week. Do you want to join us next door?”</p><p>“Yeah! And invite Akaashi as well, it’ll be good fun,” Bokuto chimed in.</p><p>Kenma rubbed his eyes. Was this seriously happening right now? Were his two neighbors seriously inviting them to a birthday celebration for a pottery chicken, or had his lack of sleep finally caught up to him?</p><p>“We’ll see,” he replied.</p><p>“That’s not a no,” Kuroo grinned. “See you next week, kitten.”</p><p>Kenma murmured something that could have been “go to hell” or “good riddance”, disappearing into the mystery that was his and Akaashi’s apartment.</p><p>“Well, I think that went well,” Kuroo spoke up. “See you later at night, Bo.”</p><p>“See ya,” Bokuto waved. “I’m gonna be late.”</p><p>“That’s on you for only sleeping at three,” Kuroo called out behind him.</p><p>Bokuto stuck out his tongue at him. </p><p>It was off to work again.</p><p> </p><p>Bokuto was certain that the coffee machine had some kind of grudge against him.</p><p>It was whirring and spitting all manners of strange noises. Was it too much to hope that it didn’t start smoking like the last time? He already had plenty on his plate without accidentally starting a robot uprising at work. </p><p>“You sure you're okay in there?” Konoha asked, leaning around the corner.</p><p>“Yup, everything is under control,” Bokuto said, flashing him a nervous thumbs-up. </p><p>The machine choked, and deflated with a sad hiss.</p><p>Konoha sighed.</p><p>“Just get the drinks going.”</p><p>“I’m on it.”</p><p>As a small local coffee shop, handmade brews were pretty much their specialty. All of their drinks had the most ridiculously long names that were a bitch to pronounce, which Konoha took great delight in. He had a sadistic smile saved for every time he got to watch new customers squirm trying to figure out how to go about ordering without embarrassing themselves. That’s how you told a new customer from a regular; those who came in on the daily no longer possessed a sense of shame. They could easily yell “Buzzy Bee Bubble Oats Supreme with a shot of non-fat enthusiasm” for the entire cafe to hear without blinking once.</p><p>Reaching for the beans, Bokuto fired up the grinder.  </p><p>He could do this. He had watched Konoha do this many times. Just froth the milk, pour the syrup, pour the milk, and then pour the espresso shot. Top it all off with a generous dosing of caramel and a pump of creativity and he would have an honest-to-goodness Caramel Cream Crusade ready to go. There was nothing he couldn’t do if he set his mind to it, right?</p><p>As he busied himself with the pouring of the milk, his mind started to drift as he wondered what kind of customer had ordered this drink. The Caramel Cream Crusade was a popular favorite on their menu. Those who were trying to shake off a creative block usually got it with an additional shot of inspiration, and those who were just trying to get into an artsy mood knew to have it chilled. But the one he was making was hot and plain, so it got his imagination working trying to concoct a face to match the drink order.</p><p>“Bokuto.”</p><p>“Huh?” </p><p>“No, don’t turn away from—”</p><p>The instant Bokuto turned around to face Konoha, they both knew that he had made a fatal mistake. The milk went sloshing to the floor.</p><p>“Oops.” Bokuto flashed him a sheepish smile.</p><p>“No sense crying over spilled milk, I suppose,” Konoha lamented.</p><p>Sighing, he steered Bokuto away from the puddle and grabbed a mop to clean it up. He had long resolved himself to the arduous fate of cleaning up after Bokuto’s eager attempts at making drinks. </p><p>Looking as apologetic as he possibly could, Bokuto stood awkwardly up against the wall, at a loss on what to do next.</p><p>“Hey, it’s no biggie,” Konoha assured, noticing Bokuto’s clear distress. “I think you’re much better with the customers than I am, so can you take orders? I’ll take over the drinks.”</p><p>“Roger that!” Bokuto perked up, hurrying out to the front without any prompting.</p><p>“Just get them right,” Konoha called out after him.</p><p>Kitchen duty wasn’t Bokuto’s specialty. He wasn’t the best at practical tasks and instructions, but talking to people? Cheering up customers? Yelling orders? Now that was right up his alley. </p><p>There was something so incredible about being able to set the mood for someone’s day, to be their first genuine source of human interaction when they’re all yawning and cranky before their first coffee. Just a smile here and a hello there and he could be making people’s days! Now that was a strange and fascinating concept to him—to be able to play a part in the mornings of everybody who comes through those goddamn glass doors.</p><p>And come through those goddamn glass doors they did. There were people from all walks of life, with all sorts of weird and wacky drink orders. He had heard his fair share of ridiculous drink orders, and there was not a day in his life where he didn’t wonder why someone would need five pints of regret in their morning coffee. One pint was already bitter as hell, why five? Some people were truly looking for pain and suffering in life.</p><p>Konoha swore that he was only this enthusiastic because he was new, that he had yet to adopt the jaded and cynical barista attitude that would set in around a few months later, but Bokuto just wanted to enjoy the novelty while it lasted. </p><p>Just as he took up the till, Bokuto spotted a familiar face.</p><p>“Tsum-tsum!” </p><p>“Bo-kun!” None other than Miya Atsumu strolled in through those doors, making a beeline for the counter. “I’ll have my regular.”</p><p>“One Firefox Fountain, coming right up!” Bokuto recited dutifully to Konoha in the back. It was all part of the job and he was perfect for it—no shame, no hesitation. </p><p>“Oh, and five pumps of apathy, thanks.”</p><p>“You’d get a heart attack, ‘Tsumu,” Bokuto chuckled. “Plus it’s kind of illegal.”</p><p>“Maybe that’s the point,” Atsumu quipped back.</p><p>“Rough day?”</p><p>“‘Samu had the gall to tell me that soy milk is better than cow’s milk,” Atsumu huffed. “M’twins with a <em> monster </em>.”</p><p>“They’re both good.” Bokuto shrugged, narrowly avoiding picking a side. There was no end to the pointless arguments that the Miya twins had over practically every little thing. You’d be out of your mind to try to settle their heated debates about everything from toilet paper roll orientation to what made a saucepan a saucepan and not a pan. Why’d they call it a saucepan if it was just a deep pan?</p><p>“I’m so mad I nearly missed practice,” Atsumu fumed. “Speaking of which, have ya heard the good news?”</p><p>“What good news?” </p><p>“Y’know, <em> about Hinata and Kageyama </em>?”</p><p>“That’s old news!” Bokuto said. “We’ve all known this for like, a while now.”</p><p>Atsumu’s jaw dropped in surprise and outrage. </p><p>“Yer’ve gotta be kidding me! Why am I always the last to know about things?”</p><p>“Maybe you’re just not observant enough.” Bokuto grinned.</p><p>“I thought we were friends, Bo-kun!” </p><p>“That’s why I’m telling you,” Bokuto laughed at Atsumu’s distress. “Here’s your drink.”</p><p>Grabbing it with a huff, Atsumu turned to go. </p><p>His reaction only made Bokuto laugh even harder. </p><p>“Oh, oh, I almost forgot!” Atsumu doubled back. “I have a question.”</p><p>“What question?”</p><p>“Do ya guys have that new drink?”</p><p>“What new drink?” Bokuto felt like he was missing something here.</p><p>“Ya know, <em> the one that makes someone fall in love with ya </em>.”</p><p>“<b> <em>FALL IN LOVE</em> </b>?”</p><p>“Shadd’up!” Atsumu yelped. He was this close to slapping a hand over Bokuto’s mouth. “<em> I don’t need the whole world to know that Miya Atsumu needs help with his love life </em>.”</p><p>“No, but seriously, <em> fall in love </em>?” Bokuto leaned in. “Is there such a thing?”</p><p>“Haven’t you heard of love potions?”</p><p>“I’ve never heard of a love potion <em> drink </em>.”</p><p>Atsumu proceeded to pull up some pictures on his phone. They looked just like any other tea or coffee drink, just with a whole lot more embellishment and a bunch of fancy-looking glasses and cups. Were these supposed to be love potions? </p><p>Bokuto considered Atsumu’s words. A drink that could make someone <em> fall in love </em> . If there really was a drink like the one Atsumu was asking for, then... <em> then </em>. He shivered. The possibilities were too powerful. Surely, those must be illegal or something. Or at least required a license to prepare. A lot of skill, maybe. Either way, he had never heard of them.</p><p>“Nope, never heard of them.”</p><p>“Aw, shucks.”</p><p>“So, who’s the lucky guy? Or should I say, <em> unlucky </em> guy?”</p><p>Firing him a look, Atsumu folded his arms.</p><p>“...Omi-kun.”</p><p>“I knew it!” Bokuto whooped, pumping his fist.</p><p>“It’s not that obvious!” Atsumu squawked.</p><p>“I’m not blind, ‘Tsumu."</p><p>“...Fine. But don’t tell anyone else about this, s’embarrassing.”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure they already know,” Bokuto said, pulling another defeated noise out of Atsumu. “Are you ever gonna make a move?”</p><p>“I was <em> gonna </em>,” Atsumu started. “But then my favorite coffee shop didn’t have a certain drink on hand.”</p><p>“Aw, c’mon,” Bokuto urged. “You don’t need a love potion drink! You’re Miya Atsumu, I’m sure you can work something out.”</p><p>“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Atsumu laughed. “But while I may be Miya Atsumu, Omi-kun <em> is </em> Sakusa Kiyoomi aft’r all.”</p><p>“Sometimes I wish you could see how blind you can be,” Bokuto sighed. </p><p>Atsumu was one of the sharpest around when he was on the court, but once he left his spot behind the net he was as blind as a fucking donkey. The rest of the team was getting exasperated at the little dance that he and Sakusa did around each other—all the lingering glances and the heart eyes and the longing looks. You could practically cut the sexual tension between them with a butter knife when they were in the same room. It was getting <em> unbearable </em>.</p><p>“What does that even mean?”</p><p>“Just do it,” Bokuto urged one last time. “You’ll thank me later.”</p><p>Eyeing him suspiciously, Atsumu took a drawn-out sip of his Firefox Fountain, an entirely too chocolate-y drink for Bokuto’s personal taste.</p><p>“We’ll see,” he said conspiratorially. “We’ll see.”</p><p>With that, he left, leaving Bokuto with a boatload of thoughts.</p><p>A love potion drink, huh? He had never heard of such a thing, but if Atsumu had asked about it, it probably did exist. Miya Atsumu was way too prideful to ask about something that he wasn’t sure of. And if it did exist, that would mean somewhere out was a drink that could open up a <em> world </em> of possibilities, and hell if the possibilities didn’t make Bokuto shiver with curiosity, his head abuzz with this new information.</p><p>He would have to look into it later.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>drop a comment if you're feeling the story</p><p>here's my <a href="https://thegildedraven.carrd.co">socials</a>, where you can find me or my works</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. a delicious idea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bokuto and Kuroo play potion maker. Then they attempt to clean the entire living room in under one minute.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a shorter chapter, but a gem nonetheless.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I need this to work!”</p><p>“Then why did you ask me for help?” Kuroo snorted.</p><p>Bokuto fetched the mugs from the cupboard, setting them down on the kitchen counter with an air of finality. He had gathered all the ingredients a day in advance, ready to embark on the treacherous journey of making a drink outside work. This wasn’t just any drink. This was <em> the </em> drink. <em> That </em> drink.</p><p>“You’re the only one I know who’s interested in this kind of shit,” he explained. “Drink mixing and all that stuff, right?”</p><p>“Just because I mentioned that I wanted to bartend once, <em> once </em>, doesn’t mean that I’m interested in this kind of shit,” Kuroo sighed.</p><p>Bokuto shot him a look, looking entirely unconvinced.</p><p>“Well, I <em> am </em> interested in this shit, but it still doesn’t mean I know how to make drinks, Bo.” Kuroo folded his arms. “I’m an exorcist, not a potion maker.”</p><p>“Fine! But hear me out.” Bokuto grinned.</p><p>Kuroo slapped his hand over his head. That was Bokuto’s ‘I’m going to try something new and probably fuck up the entire house while I’m at it’ grin. Should he bring out the big guns already? How many pails of floor cleaner was he going to need for this? Should he notify the plumber and the fire brigade in advance? Maybe write out their wills?</p><p>“It’s a <em> love potion </em>.”</p><p>“Am I supposed to be impressed?”</p><p>“Well, <em> yeah </em>. Wasn’t it your grand plan to seduce them when they come over?” </p><p>The instant their neighbors were mentioned, Kuroo straightened up.</p><p>This did not go unmissed. Bokuto’s grin only widened.</p><p>“Not with a love potion!” Kuroo protested. He had far better things to do with his time than play potion maker. “That’s like, cheating or something.”</p><p>“Then with what? Your irresistible charm and wit?” Bokuto snorted.</p><p>“I don’t know! Maybe with my sexy cooking and beautiful abs or something like that,” Kuroo exclaimed. He paused, slapping a hand over his head. “Oh god, that sounded sleazy.”</p><p>“Here, catch.”</p><p>A bottle of vanilla extract went sailing clean over the table, and thank <em> god </em> Kuroo managed to catch it. That shit was expensive.</p><p>“What’s this for?”</p><p>“Healing and love and positive energy and all that,” Bokuto said, reading off the recipe on his phone. </p><p>“Please don’t tell me you just <em> googled </em> a fucking recipe.”</p><p>“That’s exactly what I did,” Bokuto chirped.</p><p>Pulling up the recipe on his phone, he lumbered over to Kuroo and showed him the ingredients list. </p><p>“Black tea? Cinnamon? Rose petals??” Kuroo recited skeptically. “This sounds more like a relaxing spa than a drink.”</p><p>“Just shut up and help me get all the things we need.”</p><p>Resigning himself to his fate, Kuroo joined Bokuto in rummaging around in their shared cabinets, pulling jars and bottles and bags out. He was more than convinced that they weren’t going to succeed anyway—so he might as well entertain Bokuto’s wacky idea and see where it took them. </p><p>“Okay, it says to make the tea first,” Bokuto said.</p><p>“Why are you telling me? <em> You </em> make the tea.” </p><p>“No, you make the tea and then I’ll measure the other ingredients,” Bokuto explained.</p><p>“Why do you get to do the easy part?” Kuroo grumbled, getting out the kettle anyway.</p><p>Plonking a tea bag into each mug, he poured the hot water over when it was done. He wasn’t personally a huge fan of tea—much preferring the bitter bite of black coffee—but he was no stranger to the tea stash that Bokuto kept in their kitchen. The man would drink anything as long as it was edible: coffee, tea, energy drinks, lemonade, melted fizzy pops—the list went on and on. </p><p>“Done, what next?” Kuroo found himself asking, much to his chagrin.</p><p>“Some vanilla extract for taste,” Bokuto emptied a teaspoon of the stuff into the mugs. “And a sprinkle of cinnamon.”</p><p>“It just looks like tea,” Kuroo remarked.</p><p>Bokuto shushed him with a look.</p><p>“A heaping spoonful of honey,” Kuroo read over his shoulder. “Stir clockwise while imbuing with feelings of love. This is such hooey.”</p><p>“Just do it!” Bokuto handed him a spoon.</p><p>Together, they started to stir the brew—one mug in Bokuto’s hand and the other in Kuroo’s. Bokuto had the most intense look of concentration on his face as he gripped the spoon and stirred. Sighing, Kuroo copied his movements. Taking a deep breath, he tried to follow whatever the recipe said, tried to conjure up those “feelings of love” or whatever, but all he could feel was his wrist starting to cramp up. </p><p>“Is that enough love?” he asked sarcastically.</p><p>“Yup!” Bokuto said, setting the mug down. “Now for the fun part.”</p><p>“There’s a fun part?”</p><p>Pulling a bag of rose petals out of nowhere, Bokuto started to drop them one by one into the tea. Just when Kuroo was about to ask him what the fuck he was doing, he started chanting Akaashi’s name morbidly.</p><p>“Okay, now I’m a little scared,” Kuroo said, taking a few steps back. “What—?”</p><p>“You’re supposed to recite the name of the recipient,” Bokuto explained, handing him the bag. “While dropping the petals in.”</p><p>“This is getting ridiculous,” Kuroo muttered, grabbing a fistful anyway. </p><p>He cringed the first time he said Kenma’s name, but pushed on anyway. <em> Kenma, Kenma, Kenma </em> . <em> Kozume Kenma </em>. The name was beautiful, just like Kenma. Quiet, but with a beautiful strength. The words were rolling quickly out his lips before he could even mutter another protest in Bokuto’s direction. The petals were falling into the mug—drifting like a falling heart—and for the briefest moment he had the maddest thought running through his head: what if it was actually working?</p><p>“There!” Bokuto chirped, putting his hands on his hips in pride. “I think we did it.”</p><p>The tea blend was relatively fragrant, tinged with the tender hint of spices and honey. The steam billowing out of the mugs only added to the effect, the petals floating like little boats on the surface. It was almost pretty. </p><p>“We can serve these when they come over later.”</p><p>Kuroo gave him a look, his brows furrowing up in disbelief. The reality of what they were doing was starting to hit him. This was not just some light-hearted fun or a prank. They were making a <em> love potion </em> , and Bokuto might actually be serious about this. As much as he didn’t place faith in the success of the potion, there was always the niggling question of <em> what if </em>? </p><p>“Bo.” Kuroo spun Bokuto around to look him in the eye. “Think of the consequences.”</p><p> “It’s just a little boost of romance, we’re not brainwashing them or something!” Bokuto said. “ Think of it as just tea.”</p><p>“<em> Now </em> you say it’s just tea.”</p><p>“Romantic tea!” </p><p>“What if it actually works?” Kuroo asked.</p><p><em> Brrrring </em>. </p><p>Fuck. That was the doorbell.</p><p>“They’re here!” Bokuto yelped, leaping over the chair and into the living room.</p><p>Some days their apartment was squeaky clean, not a spot of dirt or dust in sight. Other days, it was...definitely not so. Kuroo swore the act of snatching up any and all stray pieces of laundry on the floor and tossing them into the basket was more intensive than any of his workouts. Who needed to go to the gym when you could just attempt to clean up (i.e. hide) a week’s worth of dirty clothes in under a minute?</p><p>He looked over to see Bokuto trying to get all the loose articles off the coffee table.</p><p>“Don’t touch those!” Kuroo hissed.</p><p>“Nobody wants to see your fucking ghost magazines, Kuroo.”</p><p>“How <em> dare </em> you call Exorcist’s Weekly a ghost magazine!”</p><p>“Cut the crap,” Bokuto shushed. “They’re gonna know something’s up!”</p><p>Rushing to the door, they nearly tripped over each other in their haste to get it open.</p><p>“...Hello.”</p><p>Tilting his head in judgment, Akaashi held out a pan of freshly-baked brownies. He was wearing those thick-framed rectangular glasses that brought out the blue of his eyes, and a cozy knit sweater under a coat that looked way too thick for the weather outside. His hair was as fluffy as usual, offering Bokuto and Kuroo a judgnig glance through those hooded eyes. </p><p>Bokuto thought he looked absolutely amazing.</p><p>“I baked.”</p><p>
  <span>Kenma stood beside Akaashi in a hoodie that was ever so slightly oversized. His light hair hung around his face in loose strands, having been pulled up into a bun over his head, and framing a disinterested expression that had Kuroo’s heart beating faster and faster. Even now, he had a sleepy haze in his eyes as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the two. </span>
</p><p>Bokuto and Kuroo were still grappling with the fact that their literal neighbors were standing on their doorstep. Their literal neighbors had actually considered their invitation to their fake chicken’s birthday party, and actually showed up. Were they dreaming? Quite possibly. </p><p>It was a <em> long </em> silence charged with a <em> lot </em> of staring.</p><p>Maybe an eternity had passed. Maybe it was five minutes. But it was no maybe when Kuroo finally broke the silence.</p><p>“So, who wants drinks?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>here's my <a href="https://thegildedraven.carrd.co">socials</a>, where you can find me or my works</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. what have we done?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bokuto and Kuroo make a fatal mistake.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>and so it begins.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What drink is this again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cinnamon honey rose vanilla black tea,” Bokuto replied without skipping a beat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is an awfully long name for tea,” Akaashi remarked, sniffing his cup suspiciously. If anyone was going to be the judge of tea, it would be him. He didn’t own five sets of custom tea china sets for nothing. “But it smells delightful enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cups were cute, at least. They were fashioned into the shape of an owl and a cat, which reminded Akaashi of Bokuto and Kuroo respectively. It was slightly endearing, yet so, so ridiculous. Very in character. The tea was still warm, and it gave off a pleasantly sweet aroma—strong but not cloying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost too good to be true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How come you’re not drinking with us?” Kenma asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We just had so much of the stuff I can’t even walk right,” Kuroo covered smoothly. Bokuto </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> owed him one. “It’s pretty good. Bokuto’s mom makes it for us all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Akaashi hummed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much honey did you add?” Kenma asked, taking a deep whiff. “I can smell it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe just a little too much,” Bokuto replied sheepishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We like it sweet,” Kuroo said, flashing a cat-like grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi and Kenma traded a glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do we know you two won’t poison us?” Kenma raised a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve always been a nice person,” Kuroo replied, placing one hand over his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> curious about how this was going to go. Despite the warning bells ringing through his head, his curiosity was slowly winning out, drowning out the little bug of guilt niggling around in the back of his mind. What if it actually did work? What would that mean? He was desperately trying to quash this dangerous thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I work at a cafe,” Bokuto declared proudly. “I’ve learnt enough to make sure we got the recipe right. No poison, I swear!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay then,” Akaashi said, lifting the cup to his lips. “I’ll be the judge of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto’s breath hitched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was this the moment of truth?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Kenma interrupted. “Where’s the birthday chicken?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi set down his cup in surprise. Who could blame him? You didn’t exactly hear the phrase “birthday chicken” every other day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo let out a breath, whether out of disappointment or relief—he did not know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right! I’ll go get Ruddy,” Bokuto said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments later, he was carting out the porcelain chicken from their shared bathroom with a grin on his face and a bounce in his step. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here he comes,” Bokuto whispered, depositing the chicken onto the coffee table with an air of finality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s pretty,” Akaashi offered, fingers dancing on the rim of the owl cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruddy was a little chipped in some places from falling, but the glazed pottery surface was still colorful and vibrant. Bokuto liked to think that the chips and cracks gave his little friend character and charm. It had a little face traced into the porcelain, two beady black eyes and a beak with a smile. Too precious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma hummed in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He likes rock music,” Kuroo offered. “What kind of music do you two like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jazz,” Akaashi said simply. Was the chicken just a ploy to get to know them?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jazz,” Bokuto said. “I’ve heard you play it some nights.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But rock will suffice too.” Akaashi smiled. His fingers were tracing the eyes in the owl mug, but he was making no move to drink it. It was driving Bokuto insane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Electronic music,” Kenma said, offering no further explanation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked </span>
  </em>
  <span>at his cup, much less picked it up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo resisted the urge to chew his nails in anticipation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did you even get...Ruddy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma moved in to pick up the chicken. With both hands, </span>
  <em>
    <span>gently</span>
  </em>
  <span>, by the curve of Ruddy’s backside and the tilt of his head, i.e. the only proper way to pick up a porcelain chicken. Kuroo’s heart skipped a beat. He may have just fallen even more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A flea market!” Bokuto exclaimed with gusto. He had always been particularly proud of Ruddy. Maybe it was the fact that he had to suffer a few elbows to the face while fighting to secure Ruddy at the rummage sale, or maybe it was the cute little chicken face that smiled at him every time he entered their shared bathroom, but either way he loved Ruddy. It was like a trophy that he had won in battle, and a small friend to keep him company on the toilet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s cute,” Kenma said. Nobody could tell if he was being sarcastic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dinner</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Kuroo brought up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right! We have takeout,” Bokuto added. “From the Chinese takeout store downstairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi raised an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The food goes beautifully with the tea, don’t worry.” Bokuto beamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi and Kenma traded yet another glance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll go and get it for you! Stay here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not going anywhere,” Akaashi pointed out, but Bokuto and Kuroo had already vanished into the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they were out of earshot, they turned to each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re not drinking it!” Kuroo hissed. “Clearly they’re not buying it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Bokuto insisted. “We just have to be patient.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if they don’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t think about it, they will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo sighed. Sometimes the kind of harebrained ideas they got up to worried him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The longer this drags on, the badder it is for my heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure your heart can withstand a little more waiting,” Bokuto said, picking up the tray of takeout boxes. “Now let’s get this out to them before they grow even more suspicious. We’ve been gone a little too long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The food smelled heavenly. Then again, there was always something about takeout that hit different, especially eating it straight out of the carton. They had wonton noodles and egg fried rice tonight, a fragrant combination that filled up the living room with a lovely and appetizing aroma. Call them cheap, but Bokuto and Kuroo would much rather bunk down in their living room and enjoy Chinese takeout rather than celebrating anything at a really fancy and expensive restaurant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dig in,” Kuroo said to their guests. “Help yourself to any amount of food you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be afraid to drink up,” Bokuto urged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi stood up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before we drink your </span>
  <em>
    <span>lovely</span>
  </em>
  <span> tea and eat,” he began. “I have something for you two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He unwrapped the foil to reveal none other than the most decadent and luscious brownies that Bokuto had ever seen. The beautiful aroma of melted chocolate wafted right out of the tin, filling their living room with a heavenly smell. Bokuto’s jaw had dropped open somewhere in the process. What could he say? He was a sucker for baked goods. Akaashi was so pretty, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> he could bake? Bokuto had fallen for the right man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Help yourself,” Akaashi said, setting down the brownies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mind if I do,” Kuroo said, rubbing his hands in glee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto was still staring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is something wrong, Bokuto-san?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, nope. Just, admiring the brownies, that’s all!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hurriedly shoveled a brownie into his mouth, chewing and hoping fervently that he wasn’t being too obvious about anything. It was moist and chewy, but luscious and chocolatey at the same time. The perfect brownie. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The perfect man</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’d you learn how to bake?” Kuroo asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to please guests,” Akaashi explained. “So I got into baking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm, I never took you for a people pleaser.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are many things you do not know about me, Kuroo-san.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo nodded, taking another brownie. That much was true. He did not know much about Akaashi. Despite being neighbors, it wasn’t like they really talked to each other a lot. There was so much left about their neighbors that Bokuto and Kuroo had to learn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi picked up the tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto’s eyes shot wide open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped and set the cup down again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto and Kuroo’s stomachs dropped as they let out a silent, simultaneous sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before we drink,” Akaashi said. “Kozume-san and I would like to thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Inviting us to dinner, of course,” Akaashi continued with a coy smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto thought he might just die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Firing their two hosts a sly look, he downed the entire cup in one go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The looks on Kuroo’s and Bokuto’s faces were priceless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, thanks,” Kenma followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He too threw the tea back in one go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo’s eyes were wider than fucking dinner plates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, I think you should slow down—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m feeling a bit thirsty today,” Kenma murmured through his gulps. “This was exactly what I needed. Thanks, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, okay uh—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before long, they had drunk every last drop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto traded a nervous and confused look with Kuroo, who looked very much like he was about to say something stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So...how do you feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tired, mainly,” Kenma said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo squinted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>delightful</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Akaashi remarked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto sighed. So it didn’t work. At least there were no strange side effects or—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But not as delightful as you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto squeaked. He honest-to-goodness </span>
  <em>
    <span>squeaked</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And then he coughed. An awful, spluttering cough that wracked through his body as the words wracked through his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the matter, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Bokuto rasped out. “Just fine. Bad cough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> be hearing things, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me get you some water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Akaashi vanished into the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kuroo</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Bokuto coughed. “I think I’m dying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you choking on something?” Kenma asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need any help?” Kuroo asked, concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m sure Kuroo could help you with those strong arms of his,” Kenma said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was so casual that Kuroo almost missed it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The instant the words hit him, his leg flew up as he stood, crashing into the underside of the table with a loud bang.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is your leg okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just fine,” Kuroo managed to choke out, trying to duck his head away from Kenma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only Bokuto could see the red flush spreading rapidly across his face, whether out of pain or something </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> he would never find out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, you should have some water.” Akaashi returned with a glass of water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto grabbed the glass and hurriedly downed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t drink so fast, you’ll—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started sputtering and coughing even harder, the water splashing everywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—choke on it too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto tried to wave Akaashi away, the embarrassment too much for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got it all over your shirt,” Akaashi said. “Here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached for the hem of Bokuto’s shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me help you take off your shirt, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, face unmoving, intention genuine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto froze. His heart may have stopped. Was there a cardiologist in the house?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bokuto?” Kuroo reached over. “Earth to Bokuto?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he’s gone into shock,” Kenma helpfully supplied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes were wide, like a deer caught in headlights, and no sound was coming out of his mouth even though he was moving it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh dear,” Kuroo said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi was trying to shake Bokuto back to life, but he was unresponsive.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What have they done?</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>here's my <a href="https://thegildedraven.carrd.co">socials</a>, where you can find me or my works</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. an intervention</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bokuto and Kuroo have a guest.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm actually so hyped to receive all your comments on the chapters so far y'all</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The doorbell rang. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo peered through the peephole first. Then slowly, he unlatched the chain on the door and slid it open with quick ease. Next, he peered out the door, shifty eyes darting around as he scanned the corridors. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it was empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh! Just come in, and hurry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo led their guest into the living room, where Bokuto was currently curled in on himself and rocking back and forth, only one thought repeating through his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But not as delightful as you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was quickly losing his sanity, spiralling into a lovesick madness that he may never be able to save himself from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The instant he saw the familiar face, he leapt up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tsukki!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, nice to see you two too,” Tsukishima said, setting down his coat with an air of doomed resignation. “Now, what’s all this secrecy about? You two are being extra suspicious today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his defence, neither Kuroo nor Bokuto had informed him of the purpose of their call for help when they phoned him. All he had heard was a bunch of clearly distressed squeals and calls of panic that translated into a bunch of staticky nonsense over the phone. One of these days, he would have to get his hearing checked. If he had any premature hearing loss, it would be because of these two idiots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need your help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got that part,” Tsukishima sighed. They had been very vocal about it. “What happened? Did one of you confuse the protein powder with the shrinking one again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Kuroo frowned. “What do you take us for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re our only hope and savior now,” Bokuto said, very seriously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our only light in the dark.” Kuroo nodded, equally serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our absolute beacon of benevolence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our helping hand in the craziest times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I get it,” Tsukishima stopped them. “Ever heard of cutting to the chase?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We fed our neighbors a love potion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsukishima blinked, slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Long story,” Kuroo said, squinting at Bokuto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oops.” Bokuto shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few moments later—with fresh cups of coffee (not tea) and the three of them seated in a circle around the coffee table—Kuroo and Bokuto recounted the whole story, complete with tons of unnecessarily exaggerated hand gestures and loud exclamations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—so yeah, you’re the only one who can help us now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You make potions!” Bokuto exclaimed. “You know what to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re smart, and you don’t get into situations like these,” Kuroo added on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsukishima sighed. Sometimes having common sense could be such a curse. One bad thing happens and all the idiots come screaming to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you two aren’t just shocked that actual, living people are taking an interest in you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto and Kuroo thought for a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no—” Bokuto started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—It’s the love potion,” Kuroo finished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsukishima raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were flirting with us!” Bokuto said, flabbergasted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And it was hella obvious,” Kuroo continued, still in disbelief. “Not the kicking you under the table, staring a little too long, smiling a little too much kind of flirting! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kenma</span>
  </em>
  <span> said I had strong arms. He actually said it. Out loud. Not a figment of my imagination, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsukishima flashed him a look—one that looked like he just saw a pesky fly on the wall that he couldn’t kill and was desperately resisting the urge to swat at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actual Kenma would never do that,” Kuroo groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akaashi was being all seductive and mysterious as well,” Bokuto tacked on to the pile of woes they had built. “He tried to </span>
  <em>
    <span>take off my shirt</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so you have a problem,” Tsukishima said, mentally willing them to spare him the details. “Why not go back to the source?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Show me the recipe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo and Bokuto shared a nervous look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They handed Tsukishima the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even a few seconds into reading, he lowered it slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a good what the fuck?” Bokuto asked, wincing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously not,” Kuroo said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did this even work?” Tsukishima asked, scrolling through the recipe in utter skepticism and disbelief. It wasn’t even properly formatted, having been screenshotted off some obscure blog, no doubt written by some amateur do-it-yourself potion enthusiast. The units of measurements weren’t even consistent! How much honey could someone possibly need for a love potion? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Imbue with feelings of love</span>
  </em>
  <span>, what the actual fuck? Just say love magic already. How pretentious can a blog on some homemade, half-baked potion recipe get?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo hummed in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t even know love magic!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who knows? We could be secretly talented, Tsukki!” Bokuto burst out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I highly doubt that,” Tsukishima said, wrinkling his brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Love magic was a highly-specialized branch of magical practice. It took most years to even obtain basic mastery over it. It was tricky, and volatile, and has been a widely debated subject since the dawn of time. If there was anyone who could create a successful love potion on the first try, it wouldn’t be these two idiots. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There has to be some sort of cure,” Kuroo said. “Something to undo it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsukishima threw his hands up in exasperation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could try the regular stuff that nullifies a potion. Salt, rice, pepper, some rosemary maybe. If you want something stronger, then black salt, silver, traditional occult protection will work just fine. Other than that, I’ve got nothing for you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Bokuto nearly shrieked. “You can’t have nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You literally make potions,” Kuroo said, voice bordering on desperate. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>gotta</span>
  </em>
  <span> have something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, I got nothing,” Tsukishima repeated, clear as day. “You two are on your own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsukishima was good with potions. He was good at making potions, undoing them, and tailoring them to customer needs. He studied the art for years, observing professionals in the field and working the industry before he went freelance and started up a potion brewery of his own. Yet even after all these years, there was always one branch of potion that he never could find himself getting into: love potions. Too messy, too volatile, and definitely not his cup of tea (no pun intended). He craved precision and clear results, and love potions weren’t going to give him what he wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no antidote, no cure?” Horror dawned upon Bokuto’s face. “Nothing to undo any of it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t even supposed to work in the first place,” Tsukishima sighed. “I don’t know how you got into this mess and I don’t know how to get you out of it. The most you can do is try everything and just wait. Maybe pray. I don’t know what you believe in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have holy water,” Kuroo said weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try that then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t some kind of exorcism!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, love potions aren’t some kind of joke,” Tsukishima retorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s got us there,” Bokuto whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not helping, bro,” Kuroo said. “Not helping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, unless you’re going to confront them and tell them what you’ve done to try to get them out of the spell through the power of healthy communication, I don’t know what else you can do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> telling them,” Bokuto said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agreed,” Kuroo whispered, horrified at the very idea of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They would hate</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you have it,” Tsukishima concluded. “Try everything and pray it works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto turned to Kuroo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo turned to Bokuto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even Tsukishima didn’t know what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They were royally fucked</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>here's my <a href="https://thegildedraven.carrd.co">socials</a>, where you can find me or my works</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. cruel hand of fate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Akaashi and Kenma talk about their game plan. Bokuto and Kuroo vow to fix it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>can you tell I'm a big fan of devious Akaashi and Kenma</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The jazz music lilted through the sunlit living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi took a small sip from his cup. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah</span>
  </em>
  <span>, what a perfect day for some oolong. The temperature was just right, the flavor divine, and he even brought out one of his older but still beautiful tea china sets. He had lovingly polished every bit of it by hand, before unearthing one of his most prized tea blends. It was a full-bodied oolong, rich and flavorful, the leaves brown and earthy and grounding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tasty,” Kenma murmured from behind his screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad you like it,” Akaashi said, flipping the page of his book with a thumb and forefinger. He was reading one of his old books, reliving a world that he hadn’t visited in a while. His morning had started off very nostalgically. “I haven’t made oolong tea in a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat in silence for a bit more, listening to the smooth jazz. It was a sunny day today, but the sunlight was soft and easy, not sweltering and harsh. It lay in warm, speckled patches across their tiled floor, creeping in through the windows and touching all the plants that sat on the balcony. Akaashi had always liked days like this, days that were soft and easy and comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. His heart-shaped philodendrons were growing nicely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think they suspect anything?” Kenma asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think they suspect a thing,” Akaashi snorted. “It should take them a while to figure it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So we’re really doing this then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in,” Akaashi stated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m game if you are,” Kenma said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll tell them eventually,” Akaashi said. “But for now, we can have a little fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” Kenma hummed. “Can you draw the curtains?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Akaashi said, pulling them close. “Working on a game?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup, needs something cold and misty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right up your alley,” Akaashi commented. “I’ll put on a coat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma got right down to work, pulling out more screens and dropping the temperature around him. Horror games weren’t new to him, but transporting the gaming scenery into a holographic reality was harder than it looked. They’ve been trying to walk the line between magic and technology since forever, and now that they were trying to blend it, it was like venturing into the unknown, exploring new territory. Kenma was just glad that he was one of the first who were getting to lead the charge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The magic started to trickle through his veins, swirling out of his hands in a cold, misty blast. He just needed to hold this temperature long enough for the system to log the data. Then he could use it to render the wintry landscape they were trying to create for this level. It was all part of a series of elemental-coded games, an experimental blend of augmented reality and organic magic that was designed to give the users a seamless and realistic gaming experience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, if only Kenma could figure out how to create life-like creatures for his game. He had never been very acquainted with supernatural phenomena, nor did he have any personal experience interacting with the dead. He could always call up the company and consult a spirit worker in-house, but it wouldn’t be the same as witnessing the movement and gaits of various entities in person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The image faded from his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take a break?” Akaashi offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm,” Kenma hummed, slipping down onto the couch once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi stepped out onto the balcony for some sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re scrambling all over themselves to figure out how to undo it,” Akaashi said. He may or may not be a little bit of a sadist at this point. It was entertaining, watching their two neighbors panic as they deal with the consequences of what they had done. It was a great way to teach them a lesson. Akaashi wasn’t beyond playing the two at their own game—whatever it was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s kinda cute,” Kenma said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kozume-san, it is not cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think he’s cute, don’t you?” Kenma’s lips curled up into the slightest smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you take me for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto-san wasn’t cute. Akaashi refused to give in to the thought of it. He may be attractive, sure, but cute? He refused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see when you’re staring at his ass, you know,” Kenma said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi spluttered on his tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what’s the plan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We pretend we’re under the influence of a very powerful love spell,” Akaashi said, wiping the edges of his mouth. “And we use the art of seduction to get back at them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean we flirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, we flirt,” Akaashi replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was feeling a little tingling sensation under the surface of all his unhurried emotions—was this what they called excitement? It was like he had just figured out the punchline to a joke that he had been thinking about for weeks, or a little secret that he had just overheard about himself. This was going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> interesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great,” Kenma said simply, a conspiratorial smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t know what’s coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They better not,” Kenma snorted. The wicked grin on Kenma’s face only proved Akaashi’s theory right. Kenma could be more devious than him at times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hmm, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kuroo</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma twiddled about with the buttons on his devices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He may have just come up with the most fantastic idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got that look on your face again,” Akaashi said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What look?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The look that means you’ve just thought of the most fantastic idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma blinked. Akaashi was so perceptive sometimes that he wondered if he had more magic than he let on, or if the man was just that tuned in to people’s tics and expressions despite revealing little of his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I have,” Kenma said. “Maybe I have.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is so wrong. So, so wrong. Everything is so wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saying it’s wrong doesn’t make it any less wrong!” Kuroo burst out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Bokuto cried out. “But it’s still so wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Kuroo said. “What do we do now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We follow Tsukki’s advice,” Bokuto said, resolute and determined. “I’m sure we’ll find something that can undo the potion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t this mean that we have to be around them?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And risk exposure to more flirting?” Bokuto replied. “Yup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo sighed. His heart wasn’t strong enough for this kind of shit. This was going to be the death of him. He would relish in the delight of getting to tell Bokuto that he was right all along, but this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> what he signed up for. He couldn’t even be smug about it. Great.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a risk worth taking, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can do this,” Bokuto assured. He had to be confident. Even if Kuroo had lost all hope in the two of them, Bokuto still had enough to keep them going in these trying times. Where would they be without his blind faith? Probably dead in a ditch somewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can,” Kuroo said. “But that’s not it. I feel like we have to be honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean, you want to tell them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After this is all over, yeah,” Kuroo said. “We owe them an explanation at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto dropped his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll probably hate us,” Kuroo added. “But we kinda deserve it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah you’re right. We’ll tell them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will, but first, we have to settle this mess once and for all,” Kuroo concluded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto nodded, a fire blazing in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were going to fix this mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had to.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>here's my <a href="https://thegildedraven.carrd.co">socials</a>, where you can find me or my works</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. begone, demon!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Kuroo banishes a demon. Kenma banishes the doubt from Kuroo's heart.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Kuroo had seen a lot of strange and bizarre things over the course of his work life. As an exorcist working for himself, it was only natural to be prepared for whatever may come his way. Being prepared was what landed him his job anyway. He had been prepared when everyone told him that he wasn’t going to make it big in the field on his own. He had been prepared when he had to sacrifice his time and sleep to observe industry professionals on late-night house calls. He had been prepared when he had to pay a trip to the hospital because of a rogue djinn attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He liked to think he was prepared for anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had never been so wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The instant he answered the door and saw Kenma’s face staring back up at him, he came to one inevitable conclusion: he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucked</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” Kenma replied. “Are you free?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here, kitten?” Kuroo asked, heart speeding up as he tried to keep his voice steady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t I just want to see your pretty face?” Kenma asked without skipping a beat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was truly fucked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, come on in then,” Kuroo said, wincing at the sound of his own nervous voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great, I have a proposal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A </span>
  <em>
    <span>proposal</span>
  </em>
  <span>????” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would love for it to be the kind of proposal we’re both thinking of, but it’s for work,” Kenma sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank god,” Kuroo whispered under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an exorcist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need your help,” Kenma stated simply. “For a game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo tilted his head in curiosity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps you’ve heard of Kodzuken Games Inc?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” Kuroo chimed in, trying to keep the fact that he had spent countless nights researching Kenma’s work from showing on his face. It was quite impressive, actually. The company had grown into national fame over the years, churning out games with impressive user interfaces and stunning gameplay. Their visuals were pretty breathtaking, and it didn’t take much fiddling around with the set-up to play them. Kuroo may or may not have gotten one or two for himself to see what the hype was about. Shit. He was really getting into the bad habit of examining trends and then falling into the trap himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’re trying to make this new line of games that blend augmented reality and magic,” Kenma summed it up. “I’m supposed to be rendering the motion of multi-dimensional creatures in this game I’m working on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the problem then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never seen one in real life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Kuroo was starting to understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you mind if I tagged along on one of your work trips to observe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Kuroo said, standing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was perfect, actually. He could use this opportunity to undo the potion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of creature are you looking for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An ice demon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo’s eyes lit up in glee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in luck,” he said. “Meet me outside at seven when the sun sets.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The moon hung heavy and swollen in the sky, casting foreboding shadows that danced around the estate. The iron gate creaked open when they crossed the threshold, entering the compound under the cover of darkness. There was an uneasy rustling in the trees and the bushes, but Kuroo preferred not to harp on that. He was here for a job, and nothing would stop him from finishing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wind crept across the ground, sweeping through the fallen leaves and sending a chill moaning through the air. The house was old, nestled deep in a pocket of thick trees and grassy hills. They had to drive all the way out to get here, and even then, the driver had refused to pull in through the rusty, creaky gates. They were on their own now. Not even the caretaker dared to show their face around here ever since the hauntings began. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this what you usually wear?” Kenma asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo was dressed in a red and black dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had left a few buttons unbuttoned, revealing the silver necklace he had on underneath. He swore it was some kind of lucky charm, something that kept him safe every time he went out on a house call. It helped that it was fashioned out of silver, which strengthened the mind and will. He had on black dress pants, fastened in place with a belt that boasted an impressive snakehead buckle, a tangle of chains draping across the fabric. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Demons respect formality,” Kuroo said. It wasn’t like he was trying to impress Kenma or anything like that, right? “A little effort put into your outfit goes a long way. Dress for the job you want, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Kenma said, nodding as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Well, I must say, you look good as</span>
  <em>
    <span> hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned in on the last word, the whisper drifting up into Kuroo’s ears. Kenma always sounded like he was on the verge of falling asleep in the next five seconds, but in this case it only served to lend a sultry tone to his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo squeezed his eyes shut. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s the potion</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s just the potion. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite knowing this, it didn’t stop him from staring at Kenma anyway. It didn’t stop him from staring at the slightly oversized black pullover that enveloped Kenma’s smaller frame and made him look all cute. It didn’t stop him from staring at the pressed white collar that peeked out on top and accentuated Kenma’s collarbones and slender neck. It didn’t stop him from staring at Kenma’s tight pants that left very little up to the imagination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, Kuroo didn’t stop himself from staring, but he hadn’t forgotten his job here. Exorcise a demon, ward the place, and undo a love potion. That’s all. He could pretend it was just another regular Saturday night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He patted the vial of holy water in his chest pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get going.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m assuming you’ve never been to an exorcism before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm,” Kenma said, hands in his pockets. “I haven’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it,” Kuroo said, easing a corked bottle of black ritual salt out of his bag. “We need to start a circle first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what they say about protection,” Kenma said, firing him a look that made his cheeks heat up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Kuroo coughed. “Anyway, I’ll draw up the circle and you can just stand there and watch me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gladly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were standing in the parlour, an old-fashioned bit of work with wooden walls and high windows above the banisters that let in the slats of moonlight. Otherwise, it was entirely shrouded in shadow, darkness dipping over the sweeping double staircase and covering their faces in shadows. This was the heart of the house, where most of the hauntings were reported to happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo got to work. This was a ritual he was used to, something familiar in a completely unknown location. A grounding bit of familiarity, one that was necessary in his line of work. An exorcist was only as powerful as the protection they used. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>First, he laid his circle squarely in the middle of the room with the salt. A physical circle wasn’t actually necessary, but it was his practice, and he enjoyed the tangibility of something he could touch and see at all times. As he laid the circle, he could envision the outside world getting further and further away, the various noises of the house growing more distant. He wondered if Kenma could feel it too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo sealed the circle off. They were inside this little bubble now, away from the world outside. A world that he commanded, that he had power over. Any entity brought into this space would be subject to his will, even if they were aeons more powerful than he was. Taking a deep inhale, he started to weave his failsafes into the very energy of the circle. Nothing was going to get out once they came in. Being an exorcist wasn’t just about the banishing and the exorcism itself, it was also about making sure that one was using the safest practices possible—for the sake of both the exorcist and their clients. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you doing okay?” Kuroo turned to look at Kenma, who had been remarkably quiet during the whole process. He was staring at Kuroo with a curious and undecipherable look in his eyes. The usual sharpness that colored his features melted away with the soft moonlight. Kuroo wouldn’t be surprised if Kenma was some sort of demon himself, sent up to tempt him into sin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma simply nodded and motioned for him to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing can get out once it gets in,” Kuroo explained. It was less of a warning, and more of a way out. “If things get messy, you won’t be able to escape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine by me. I have you by my side, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo swallowed and averted his gaze. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Focus, Kuroo</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He held out the offering. A singular metal coin. There was a difference between gifts and offerings like this, offerings meant to make the process less </span>
  <em>
    <span>bumpy</span>
  </em>
  <span> once the demon showed up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a little searching. The demon wasn’t possessing anyone or anything as far as he knew, so it wouldn’t be so easy to locate it. He could feel the yawning of the old wooden foundations beneath his feet as he drove his call into the bowels of the place, hoping that it would cough up a certain ice demon. Ice demons were tricky, but easier to recognize. The signs weren’t hard to see, even for a non-exorcist—the temperature of the room would drop, a brush of ice crystals on the bookshelves, frost on the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Exorcists had to know the nature of what they were dealing with. It took more studying and familiarizing oneself with names than one would expect in the industry. It was a comprehensive field, one that boasted range and complexity. You couldn’t make it far on your own if you didn’t already have experience. Kuroo was well aware of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air inside the circle started humming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo felt a hand on his and he nearly jumped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t they hold hands in exorcism circles?” Kenma asked. “Would this be better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo didn’t even have the heart to correct him. Nor did he have the stomach to either. He was on the verge of abandoning all coherent thought processes, and all that would replace it was the cold but sure feel of Kenma’s hand against his own. His hand was much smaller than Kuroo’s, and way colder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” he choked out. “We could do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned back to his task.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma’s grip tightened, and he nearly squawked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just lending you some strength,” Kenma whispered reverently, as if his hand in Kuroo’s was the most natural thing in the world. “You got this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo felt a little hot under the collar, even as the temperature crept lower into freezing, a cold mist swelling up around their ankles. Kenma’s hand was icy to the touch, probably a side effect of his magic. Strangely enough, Kenma’s words and touch were comforting, like a reminder that he wasn’t the only one in the face of danger. It’s been a while since he had someone come with him on a house call. It got lonely sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shape started to form in the mist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He steeled himself for what was to come. This wasn’t going to be an ordinary exorcism.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon showed itself in the form of crackling and swirling ice, a face swanning from the depths of the cold, white mist to howl at the humans who dared call upon it. It shrieked and writhed against the wards revolving around the circle, a wild and desolate creature that was meant to herald humanity’s greatest sins. Kuroo remained unfazed. Ice demons were different from the demons they were so used to hearing about in movies and such. They were wild and animalistic, possessing none of the clever sentience that other demon subtypes regaled the human world with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will this do?” Kuroo asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect,” Kenma said over the sullen howling, eyes glued to the sight. He looked awfully calm for his first live exorcism. Did the love potion take away fear as well, or was Kenma just that fearless? Kuroo did not know, but he hoped that he wouldn’t have to wonder for long. There was a third option which he did want to even consider. The option that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kenma actually trusted him enough</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This next step will be a little messy.” Kuroo extracted the vial from his pocket. Holy water. It was in no way holy, nor had it been near a church, but the term was adopted by most exorcists in order to bring their work to a more mainstream front. Clients understood what holy water did, and if any other blessed, cursed, or special water did the same thing, it would simply be easier to call them all holy water. Kuroo was always wrestling with himself for adopting such basal and layman terminology, but in the end he gave in to the whole concept. As long as he did his job right, what harm was there in giving his own water a misnomer?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He emptied the vial into his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other hand, a fan of flames burst forth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo clapped his hands in a dramatic gesture, the sharp sting against his palm reverberating throughout the small space. The explosion of hot mist countered the freezing cold of the demon’s wisps, spreading rapidly throughout the circle with a vigor. It was blazing through his own hair and clinging to his clothes, the air suddenly both humid and yet unbearably cold at the same time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon screamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo looked over at Kenma, half expecting him to scream too. His hair was dripping with the holy water, rivulets streaming down his face as he looked quite taken aback. Kuroo thought he looked like a sort of bedraggled wet cat. He had no time to wonder if the water worked yet. He still had a demon to banish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wrestled with the ropes of fire shooting out of his hands as he tried to get a hold of the thrashing creature. The hissing of fire against ice sent him reeling back a little, but he held on. He started chanting to gather energy, to work it up and build it up big enough to expel the demon from the house for good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon howled again when it was overtaken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His job here was not done yet. With hand movements quick as a whip, Kuroo spun up the wards, expanding the circle until it was as big as the house. The wards wrapped around the walls and rooted themselves deep into the floor, hugging the house in tight and impenetrable layers, sure to confuse and repel the demon if it tried to get back in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a loud whoosh as Kuroo sealed them off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the house was back to its eerie silence again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He panted with exhaustion, sinking to his knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, exorcisms can get pretty messy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see that,” Kenma said, rubbing holy water out of his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, do you feel any different?” Kuroo blurted out before realizing his haste. “Exorcisms can be uh, tough you know. Sometimes people feel a sense of irreversible dread or some other nasty feelings, so I’m just checking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually...yeah.” Kenma tilted his head. “I feel like I just woke up from a dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Kuroo tried not to sound too disappointed. As much as he was anxious to get this whole potion mess out of his hair, he did quite enjoy the attention and time spent with Kenma. Regular Kenma would never volunteer to come on a house call with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A dream where I saw something very beautiful and impressive,” Kenma said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> beautiful and impressive, Kuro.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo felt like the world had just fallen down on his head. Crashed down on his noggin. Bonked him on his brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious,” Kenma said, taking Kuroo’s hand in his again and helping him up to his feet. “I’ve never watched an exorcism before, but I have no doubt that you’re confident in what you do, and there’s nothing more beautiful than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo shivered, blinking and opening his mouth like a confused chicken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, you seem kind of cold,” Kenma remarked. “Let’s get out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So the holy water </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> work?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo allowed himself to be pulled out of the house by Kenma, who tugged on his hand with a tenderness that he had never known. The fire blazed warm under his skin as the cold of Kenma’s palm kneaded against his own. There was an unexplainable thrumming in his chest and a humming in his blood as he padded across the dark courtyard with Kenma, the two of them vanishing into the night together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get something to eat,” Kenma suggested, looking up at Kuro. “You can tell me more about your profession over some teppanyaki.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo nodded dumbly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help but feel a warmth blossoming in his stomach, overtaking his heart and reaching deep into the crevices of his brain to wipe out the errant thoughts of “It’s just the potion” and “This is not real” and “Kenma would never like you like that”. It was a dangerous thought, allowing himself to indulge in time spent with someone who was under the influence of a love potion. None of this would be happening if it wasn’t for the potion. Still, the warmth inside him was compelling him to just take Kenma’s hand and run off into the night with him. It was so goddamn tempting, and Kuroo couldn’t take it anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gripped Kenma’s hand tighter, encasing their hands in soothing heat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, kitten. Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>three words: temperature-difference hand holding.</p><p>here's my <a href="https://thegildedraven.carrd.co">socials</a>, where you can find me or my works</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. snakeplants & sundresses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>an ethereal being shows up on Bokuto's doorstep.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the idea of Akaashi in a dress is killing not only Bokuto, but your dear writer as well</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bokuto sighed lightly, tapping through his phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sun shone on his skin, streaming in through the open balcony doors. A gentle breeze tickled his forehead, lightly dancing across his skin. It was another lazy Saturday evening, and Kuroo was out preparing for one of his exorcism excursions again. This time with Kenma. Lucky him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto sighed again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What shall he do on this fine day?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the weekends, and he didn’t work weekends. Practice was limited to mornings now that they were no longer in competition season. He could go down to the cafe, but there was always this twitching, niggling feeling about relaxing at his place of work that made him feel like he was constantly looking for another drink to spill and another order to mess up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So no, guess he was staying home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What shall he do at home?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could game, but it wasn’t as fun without Kuroo around to call him out for destroying the buttons on the controller when he got too excited. He could watch a show, but he was still recovering from the emotional distress of finishing the last anime he watched. He could try his hand at singing karaoke, but again, it wouldn’t feel the same without Kuroo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto scratched his chin in thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps he could do the laundry. Their laundry basket was starting to look a little too much like it was overflowing...No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, what was he becoming? Boredom was starting to do strange things to his mind. It was making him </span>
  <em>
    <span>responsible</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing, he laid back and sprawled out across their shared sofa.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he would find something to do if he looked at his phone long enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Brrrriiing.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaping to his feet, Bokuto raced to the door. Usually, he would be a little more unenthusiastic about receiving visitors, but he was so bored out of his mind that he frankly didn’t give a damn. Was it a salesman? Some bible pusher? Either way, he was just glad that the sound of the doorbell broke the monotony of his day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked through the peephole and he jumped. Was it possible to get a heart attack at his age? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hands shaking, he opened the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good evening, Bokuto-san.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aka..Akaashi??”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Standing there in his doorway was an angel. An ethereal being sent down to Earth to collect Bokuto’s soul and cart it off to heaven. A celestial figure with skin so smooth the sunlight rolled off it in golden waves, tumbling down his lithe figure to reveal the most exquisite ensemble that Bokuto had ever laid his eyes upon: a white dress that cut around the shoulders, plunging down into his chest as the fabric cascaded down past his waist and floated around his long legs. There were little rosette patterns weaved into the dress, little pops of pink and green stark against the white.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto had either ascended beyond a mortal form or died—whichever came first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“May I come in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto was sure that if Akaashi had just asked him to give up his entire life savings, he would gladly oblige. He could only stare dumbly as his neighbor stepped inside, the dress flowing and bouncing behind him as he moved with an unexplainable grace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s really really good to see you and all and I’m so happy that you’re here but, is there any reason </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’re here?” Bokuto nearly tripped over his own two feet trying to stumble after Akaashi, who made a beeline for the balcony, paying no heed to Bokuto’s distress. The fabric swirled around his legs, lifting up in the breeze to reveal a slip of dainty ankle, which was driving Bokuto mad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kuroo-san mentioned something about dying plants the other day over dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah! We do have some poor plants on the balcony that have held out this long,” Bokuto replied, trying to wipe the dazed look off his face. “We thought it’d be good for brightening the place up, but neither of us have enough of a green thumb to keep them growing well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fret not.” Akaashi smiled like he had just chanced upon a grand secret. “I’m here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He inspected the row of pots on the balcony and picked one up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A snake plant,” Akaashi said appreciatively. “I like snake plants.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto couldn’t believe what was right in front of his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi was wearing a dress. In his house. On his balcony. Better yet, he was cradling their snake plant with the utmost care and concern, hugging the pot to his side. He wasn’t an angel, he was a magical forest nymph, one that had emerged straight from the depths of a lush green forest with tall trees and high mountains just to charm Bokuto.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had no glasses on, leaving his beautiful blue-green eyes out in the open, like flecks of deep blue sky and strong surging waves captured in Akaashi’s irises, beckoning to Bokuto’s soul. His cheeks were dusted with the lightest pink, a cheeky testament to the coral hues that adorned his lips. There was some kind of shiny powder—</span>
  <em>
    <span>highlight</span>
  </em>
  <span> if Bokuto’s memory served him well—brushed atop his nose and cheekbones. It all painted a marvellous picture that Bokuto could stare at for hours, days, </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span> on end—if Akaashi would let him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bokuto-san?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Snake? Snake plant, yes, yes,” Bokuto hurriedly responded. “It’s my favorite one too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In all honesty, he had no idea it was called a snake plant, but that was a secret between him and his own racing heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm, what have you done to these plants?” His voice was soft and delicate, but there was an undercurrent of disappointment weaved into his words that slapped Bokuto across the face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I swear we tried our best to take care of them,” he offered guiltily. He wished so desperately to ease the creases in Akaashi’s brow, to put a smile back on his gorgeous face, to rub out the little crook of disapproval in his lips. Those didn’t belong there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The devil’s ivy,” Akaashi said, picking up another pot. “It prefers partial to full shade.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto nodded, stunned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Situate it somewhere indoors instead of outside in the harsh sun,” Akaashi advised, stroking the lacklustre leaves with his dainty fingers. Those were the fingers of someone creative and nurturing, the exact opposite of what Bokuto would call himself. He couldn’t help but stare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at its lovely leaves.” Akaashi stroked the waxy heart-shaped leaves of the devil’s ivy.. “They’re simply yearning for some affection.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto’s heart skipped a beat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps, hm, yes, it does remind me of someone.” Akaashi trailed past Bokuto, brushing shoulders with him and sending a quick shiver jolting up his spine. The proximity made him freeze up and suck in a breath. “Wouldn’t you say so, Bokuto-san?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto nodded hurriedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know so much about plants, Akaashi?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I grew up with them, but this knowledge hasn’t always come to me naturally,” Akaashi recalled. “I love reading about plants, and visiting florists and greenhouses and gardens and wildflower meadows. You could call it a passion of mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think that’s very committable!” Bokuto said. Then he frowned. “Committable?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you mean commendable, Bokuto-san?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah! That! Commendable. It’s commendable. I think it’s so cool that you know so much about plants and have so much care and concern for them. I could never have as much dedication to plants as you do, and every time I try to learn about them I’m always getting lost because there’s so much information to learn. I don’t have a passion for plants, but I have a passion for volleyball. In a way, they could be the same!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi blinked on at him, confused but amicable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have to nurture our skills just like you have to nurture plants. Every team player could be a different part of the plant. Spikers could be the leaves, high up and reaching for the sun. Setters are the branches or stems, the ones that enable the spikers to grow. Blockers are the bark, sturdy and impenetrable. Those in defence could be the roots, reliable and essential,” Bokuto blurted out his revelation in excitement. Then he paused, and gave Akaashi a sheepish smile. “I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d love to hear more, Bokuto-san.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto offered him a smile. He looked so open, and honest, that Akaashi couldn’t help but return it with a smile of his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come here,” Akaashi said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto nodded, scrambling to his feet. He felt a little strange standing next to the divine radiance of Akaashi in his simple jacket and jeans, but he decided that he didn’t mind so much if he was able to watch Akaashi being Akaashi.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A little closer, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi reached out a hand and gently cupped Bokuto’s face in his palm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto looked like a deer caught in the headlights.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand traveled up the plane of Bokuto’s boyish face, running across his cheeks and past his eyes and up towards his hair, which hung down in loose and messy strands now. Bokuto hadn’t bothered to put it up, having expected to be lazing around at home for the whole day. It was softer, and fluffier this way. It was a sight that rarely anybody got to see, not even Kuroo himself. It made him feel vulnerable, like the spiked hair was a sort of armor against the world. Yet when Akaashi’s fingers were threading through his hair, he was feeling </span>
  <em>
    <span>peaceful</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The sensation was calming, and he felt at ease.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your hair looks good like this, Bokuto-san.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What—You can’t just say that, Akaashi!” Bokuto spluttered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just did.” Akaashi gave him a coy smile. “You don’t wear it like this often, do you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And yet I get to see you like this all to myself,” Akaashi whispered in his ear, and the shivers returned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something clicked in Bokuto’s brain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhhhh one second!” He leapt back. “I’ll be right back, I promise!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’ll be missing you when you’re gone.” Akaashi’s voice trailed him as he vanished into the kitchen to catch his breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What did Tsukki say</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Bokuto tried to rack his brains, pulling Tsukishima's voice from the crevices of his mind—the ones reserved for serious talk and action plans—in order to try and piece together a solution to this madness. He rummaged through the lower cabinets, pulling out a pepper shaker. With trembling fingers, he emptied a good portion of pepper into the plant mister sitting by the sink. He thought about it for a second, and decided to add some salt as well. Then, he filled the plastic mister up with water. He shook it with all his might. For good measure, he shook it again. And again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This had better work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got water for the plants!” Bokuto announced, trying to mask the nervous tone in his voice as he walked back to the balcony.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Akaashi said. “I’ll show you how to water these plants.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto gulped. He hadn’t thought about the fact that Akaashi would actually want to water the plants. Would pepper and salt be detrimental for the wellbeing of plants that looked like they were already on the verge of death? Probably.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was barely listening when Akaashi showed him a couple of watering techniques, the beating in his chest growing even louder over the sounds of Akaashi’s words. He could do this. He couldn’t do this. He had to do this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I try?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, Bokuto-san.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grabbing the mister with shaky hands, Bokuto tried to imitate what Akaashi showed him. His movements were not as sure or steady as Akaashi’s own, but he still managed to get some of it, a fine mist emerging from the bottle and coating the leaves in moisture.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very good, you may move on to the other side,” Akaashi instructed patiently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto felt a little guilty for simply playing along until he could get a window of opportunity, but he obliged anyway. Except this time, he missed. The water that spritzed out of the mister blew towards Akaashi in a huge cloud, getting all over his face and his dress. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry!” Bokuto apologized.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No worries,” Akaashi laughed lightly. “Here, let me help you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grasped Bokuto’s wrist with his hand, his fingers enveloping Bokuto’s own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Did the water not work</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here.” Akaashi continued to instruct him on the wonders of plant watering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe he had to spray it a couple more times</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, Akaashi! Again!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi blinked, trying to hold back a laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You seem very intent on performing a raincloud’s work, Bokuto-san.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” Admittedly, Bokuto wasn’t doing a very good job of lying to Akaashi. “Are you feeling okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just a little water,” Akaashi brushed him off. “I’ll be perfectly fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s what Bokuto was afraid of.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Promise me you’ll take good care of these plants?” Akaashi spoke again, voice as soft and tender as Bokuto had ever heard it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How could he not when he was staring right into those pretty blue eyes?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to leave through the front door with a wink, as mysteriously as he had arrived. Bokuto was seconds away from dropping dead on his own balcony. He wasn’t entirely unconvinced that he had just hallucinated the whole ordeal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should lie down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door burst open, startling him into sitting up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not again</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>BOKUTO</b>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was Kuroo’s voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>KUROO</b>
  <span>!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto jumped up, rushing to meet Kuroo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both gestured with wild arms, faces colored in panic, eyes flashing with distress.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dude</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Kuroo began.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude,” Bokuto echoed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stared at each other for a very tense moment—one of understanding, empathy, and absolute anguish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucked</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks for the great reception so far, I look forward to reading each and every single one of your comments goddammit</p>
<p>here's my <a href="https://thegildedraven.carrd.co">socials</a>, where you can find me or my works</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. break my bones</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>in which no bones are broken.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>finally the next chapter is up, sorry for the wait!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Make yourselves comfortable,” Akaashi hummed. “We’ll be out in a while after we change into something more, </span>
  <em>
    <span>comfortable</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The windows were open, letting in the soothing rays of sunlight that lay to rest on the mats spread out across the floor, and the cool green of the leaves belonging to the plants seated on the balcony. Everything was neatly stacked or tucked away or arranged, much like how Bokuto would expect Akaashi to live. Somewhere in the back, a light lilt of music danced through the air, setting an easy mood for the morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotta be real here,” Kuroo whispered. “I have no idea what to expect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me neither,” Bokuto admitted. “I’ve only done yoga once, and it was when I was hungover and thought some stretching would do me good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did it work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo huffed out a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They felt incredibly out of place in their neighbor’s home. Like a dust mote lying on the wooden dining table their neighbors had set up near the kitchen. Or a fly buzzing amongst the frankly impressive collection of plants on the balcony. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think they’re—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo’s sentence was cut off by the emergence of one Kozume Kenma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Holy fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma was attired in the most salaciously tight leggings, a beautiful shade of navy blue that popped against his pale skin. He was wearing a loose shirt up top, the folds artfully falling into a picture of perfect and effortless grace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was the air getting a little hotter in here? Kuroo was finding it hard to breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto wasn’t doing much better himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi’s leggings were shiny, the sunlight rolling over the fabric in waves as he moved, highlighting the slight swell of his hip and the firm beauty of his legs. It left </span>
  <em>
    <span>very little</span>
  </em>
  <span> up to the imagination, and Bokuto wasn’t sure how much more he could take.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll begin with some breathing exercises,” Akaashi announced in that soft but firm voice of his. He settled down onto a mat. “Breathing is very important in yoga. Deep breathing can help avoid injury.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto had a vague, offhanded thought that Akaashi’s voice could very much be in one of those yoga instruction videos you could find offline. It was calming, but unyielding. Grounding, but freeing. It wove in and out of his ears like a melody, like a river that kept flowing with its crystal clear waters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them hurriedly copied the position that Akaashi and Kenma had settled into, their legs folded and their arms on their thighs. Bokuto was desperately trying not to ogle, but the outline of Akaashi’s arms drew much attention to his slim, but powerful thighs. Thighs that were right </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in his </span>
  <em>
    <span>face</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he couldn’t do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it. Wasn’t the whole point of breathing exercises to calm you down? He was anything but calm right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take a deep breath,” Akaashi instructed. “Exhale slowly, releasing your breath through your nose. You should be feeling more relaxed and centered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo tried. He really did. But how could he even do any breathing at all when Kenma was right in front of him in those tight yoga pants? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can close your eyes if it helps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto would rather not, thanks. Closing his eyes meant that he could no longer see Akaashi, and if this was his only chance to before he died of a heart attack, he would like to take it. One last beautiful thing before death. Death by yoga pants. It was almost poetic, really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re just going to ease into a few basic poses,” Akaashi continued. “You should be able to follow with not too much difficulty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got up into a sitting position, straightening his legs over the mat and reaching for his feet with a fluidity that shouldn’t be humanly possible. Kenma followed suit, bending forward with ease and matching Akaashi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll start with a seated forward fold. This stretches your hamstrings, and is good for elongating your back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto followed without too much difficulty. This was a stretch that they did before volleyball warm-ups, and wasn’t entirely foreign to the likes of him. Maybe he could do this after all. Maybe he could get through the day without making a fool out of himself in front of Akaashi. Maybe it was too much to ask, but hope was all he had at this point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo groaned. He wasn’t as flexible as he would like to be, but he could at least graze his fingertips on the tip of his feet. It wasn’t much of an accomplishment, but as long as he was keeping his head down and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> staring at Kenma, anything was an accomplishment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On to the downward dog,” Akaashi continued. “Keep your knees bent if you’re not able to straighten them like this yet, in order to keep the weight on your legs.” They watched, entranced as he walked into a position in which he tucked his toes in and lifted his hips up towards the ceiling with more grace than the two of them could ever hope to have combined.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do not stare at his ass, do not stare at his ass</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Bokuto was going to hell for sure. He followed Akaashi’s instructions, and managed to get into a downward dog with a bit (okay, a lot) of huffing and puffing. If he thought it was hard to get into the pose, it was infinitely harder to hold it. He felt like he was going to fall if he so much as looked at anything but the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo went next, trying to straighten his knees and feeling too much like his hamstrings were going to explode.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it supposed to hurt this bad?” he winced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto would shrug, but he would probably fall if he tried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if to add insult to the injury, Kenma slipped into the very same pose, his lithe arms and legs somehow forming a perfect triangle. Kuroo was so incredulous he almost toppled over and took Bokuto down with him. Thank god he didn’t, for he wouldn’t have had the functional hamstrings to save them both from certain embarrassment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This next pose is called the cobra pose,” Akaashi continued calmly, ignoring their collective distress. He planted his palms on the mat and tilted his back, eyes towards the sky as Kenma rose up beside him. “It helps to breathe while you’re holding the pose.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They looked beautiful, and poised, and everything that Bokuto and Kuroo would not call themselves. The sunlight streaming in through the windows caught on their silhouettes, illuminating their grace. They looked otherworldly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It certainly would help to breathe, in any way. Bokuto’s breath caught in his throat, and he quickly averted his eyes in a bid to replicate the pose. A twinge of pain flashed through his back, and he quickly released it. This was harder than it looked. Was it too late to take back what he said about making it through the day? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo winced again. Perhaps he was starting to unravel the mystery of just why Akaashi and Kenma had invited them over for yoga. This was torture, a very special kind of torture, and they were in for a spine-hurting, joint-popping, bone-breaking ride. What did he do to deserve this kind of cruelty? Well, he had a vague idea, but he wasn’t going to think about that, not while he was focusing on trying not to sprain something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you find that the pose is too easy, you can put your arms up like this.” Akaashi demonstrated, putting his elbows behind his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto was incredulous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo wanted to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold your core, breathe, maintain the pose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How was he speaking so calmly? Bokuto wasn’t even doing the same thing and he felt like he might just sound like a wheezing hippo if he even tried to speak. The session had started off easy and relaxed, with a few challenging but manageable stretches, and now it was turning into some kind of Olympic sport. The Olympic sport of pulling a muscle, maybe. He was going to be so sore the next day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to die,” Kuroo wheezed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A light chuckle came from Kenma in the distance, who was currently holding a pose Akaashi called the swan pose. It accentuated the perfect curvature of his legs, and the delicate swerve of his back and neck. Kuroo wondered if he would die of amazement or a broken lower back first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll do a child’s pose here just to take a breather and relax.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi moved into a pose that (thankfully) was simple enough for even Kuroo to manage. His back was screaming by the time he descended to the floor. They were thankful that Akaashi was still looking out for their sorry, inflexible asses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re very flexible, Akaashi,” Bokuto remarked. “It’s amazing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can do much more with my flexibility,” Akaashi said, a tone much too suggestive for the living room. “Would you like to find out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto felt his mouth go dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could show you right now, if you two so desire.” Akaashi moved a little closer such that his face was just mere inches away from Bokuto’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Bokuto’s voice came out weak and strained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Allow me to demonstrate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto gulped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi moved over to his mat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he slipped into a yoga pose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto heaved a sigh. So Akaashi meant yoga. He didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi moved into a few more complicated poses. There was the crow pose, which looked like it required incredible arm strength and a lot of patience. He looked like he was hovering above the floor, and Bokuto watched, gape-jawed. Kuroo was staring like he couldn’t quite figure out how on earth that was even physically possible. There was the monkey pose, which should’ve looked ridiculous, but Akaashi made it work with his arms towards the ceiling. There was the camel pose, which Bokuto reckoned would’ve broken his back if he even tried it. Akaashi looked so poised, like he was a natural at it, and it made Bokuto’s head swim as if he was under a spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope that wasn’t too disappointing a show,” Akaashi said. “Unless perhaps, were you expecting something else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no. Not at all.” Bokuto rubbed his neck sheepishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi may come across as meek and unassuming at times, but there was a quiet power and confidence in the way he moved. That much was evident now. He possessed a silent strength that Bokuto could only admire from afar, like a bird soaring through the sky with powerful wings that could only be appreciated from the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay, bro?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo was too knocked out to respond. He had just spent an hour garnering further proof of how hopeless inflexible he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I started out terrible at yoga too,” Kenma spoke up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo perked up at his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akaashi was insistent that I would get better with practice and time, and I hated it at first, but he was right,” Kenma recalled. “I couldn’t even do a downward dog without feeling like my knees were going to give out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If his words were meant to make Kuroo feel better, it was working.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re flexible,” Kuroo protested weakly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But the whole point isn’t about being flexible,” Kenma sighed. “Yoga is about relaxation, and building awareness in the mind, body, and spirit. It’s not something you have to be good at to enjoy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi looked on proudly, earning an unamused snort from Kenma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I enjoyed it,” Bokuto said. “It was very informative. I may have to sleep in the whole day tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Bokuto-san.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I enjoyed it too, I think,” Kuroo offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a valiant effort, Kuroo-san.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto smiled. They may have just gone through hell but at least it was nice. This was nice. The sunlight streaming in. The sweat running down his back. The soothing blast of a passing breeze. This felt so real. Something about the day made him feel warm inside, as if spending time with Akaashi and Kenma was the most natural thing in the world. It made him want more. He wanted to spend more time with their neighbors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the look of Kuroo’s face, he agreed. He looked deep in thought, and Bokuto could guess what he was thinking about. The love potion. If this wasn’t real, was there really any point in enjoying it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one look at the small smile on Akaashi’s face, Bokuto would have to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew it wouldn’t last though. Soon they would find a way to undo the potion, and everything would be back to normal. They would be back to sitting on their balcony and pining after their neighbors, knowing that the chances of their affections being returned were next to none. They would be back to speculating about the two mysterious individuals next door, wondering if they were having a good day or not. They would be back to their raucous selves, getting scolded by Akaashi and Kenma every morning and enjoying every second of it. Speaking of which, Akaashi would probably be much less tolerable of his antics and ramblings once he was himself again. As much as Bokuto would miss the soft and gentle way that Akaashi treated him now, he knew they had to right their wrongs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was time for them to finish this once and for all.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this fic is actually picking up some traction! love watching the comments drop by<br/>I'm going to consistently post a chapter a day over the next few days to beat the ao3 algorithm, as tempting as it is to post it all now in one go</p><p>here's my <a href="https://thegildedraven.carrd.co">socials</a>, where you can find me or my works</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. desperate last bid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>in which Bokuto and Kuroo go for one last final attempt.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>here we goooooo</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been a week since the yoga session. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto had since gone out with Akaashi about three more times, each learning more and more peculiar and amazing things about his neighbor. He now knew that not only was Akaashi well-versed in plantcare, he also enjoyed brewing tea, crochet, and watching musicals as well. It was all very new to Bokuto, who had no idea that knitting and crochet were different things in the first place. Akaashi wasn’t just a pretty face anymore, he was a creative and nurturing and confident individual that Bokuto couldn’t help being impressed with every time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo had gone over to Kenma’s a few times to help him with the game design. He was vastly confused by the sea of buttons and controls at first, but that was quickly overtook by how impressed he was with the realistic rendering on the holographic projections. How quickly technology has advanced to keep up with magic! Kenma was surprisingly patient with his explanations, guiding Kuroo through the whole process even if he didn’t need to. Kuroo had always known how knowledgeable Kenma was in his field, but he hadn’t expected him to be so open about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had gotten so used to the flirting that they were starting to flirt right back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was dangerous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had to be amended.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sit down, sit down,” Bokuto urged, pulling out a chair for Akaashi. “Kuroo and I will be cooking for you two today, so there’s no need to be worried about anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think there’s every reason to be worried if it’s you and Kuroo cooking,” Akaashi said, only mildly joking. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we can handle a few wontons,” Kuroo quipped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You couldn’t even handle a yoga pose,” Kenma spoke up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so hurt, kitten.” Kuroo placed a hand over his heart, pretending to dramatically faint to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be right back with the best meal you’ll ever have,” Bokuto said, shoving Kuroo into the kitchen unceremoniously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they had entered the kitchen, the mood turned serious instantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup.” Kuroo pulled out a dropper vial. “Right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much did Tsukki say to use?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two to three drops will be enough,” Kuroo recited Tsukishima’s instruction faithfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great, we’ll put it in the soup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With the wontons?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With the wontons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo nodded. They got to work immediately, fetching the large saucepan out of the drawer and filling it up with water. They were no master chefs, so all they had planned for the meal today was noodles and soup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we add it in at the start?” Bokuto grabbed a few eggs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if it lessens the effects?” Kuroo asked, opening four packets of ramen noodles. “I say we add it in at the end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water started to bubble over the stove.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put the noodles in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s too soon! The water should be bubbling furiously,” Kuroo protested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It can bubble later!” Bokuto said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d rather it bubble first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just do it, goddammit,” Bokuto said, dumping the first noodle bar into the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, but if you get some hard ass noodles I’m—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything okay?” Akaashi poked his head into the kitchen. “I heard arguing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo nearly dropped the vial trying to hide it behind his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup! Just fine,” Bokuto laughed nervously. “Everything’s going swell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright...just checking in,” Akaashi said. The look on his face said he was unconvinced, but he left anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, I think we’re too stressed,” Kuroo said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so too,” Bokuto sighed. “Let’s just get this over with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had every right to be stressed. The stakes here were as high as they would ever be. They didn’t know if they would get another chance or have another solution if this failed to work. They’ve tried pretty much everything. This was their last chance. A desperate last bid to undo what they had done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the meal preparation went without much of a hitch. An egg yolk broke while Bokuto was trying to crack it into the water, but other than that the noodles looked perfectly edible and one might even say, palatable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Food’s here!” They carted the bowls out. Kuroo dutifully ladled the soup out into little bowls while Bokuto set down the noodles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks good, actually,” Kenma remarked. “Impressive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You underestimate us,” Kuroo chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do tend to surprise me a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo wondered what that meant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m hungry,” Bokuto declared, sitting down with a thonk. “Let’s eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right there with you,” Kuroo said, grabbing his chopsticks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They started to eat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The noodles are the perfect consistency,” Akaashi commented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait till you try the wontons,” Bokuto said, a hint of urgency coloring his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll get there,” Kenma said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better,” Kuroo murmured under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They finished the meal with a nice little conversation, interspersed with nervous looks traded between Bokuto and Kuroo. Was this really it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the bowls were polished clean, Bokuto broke the silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have a question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked towards Kuroo, who understood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you actually like us?” Kuroo asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi’s eyes snapped wide open. Kenma looked up, eyes wide too. They seemed to be held in some sort of trance, eyes glazed over like they were under some sort of spell. It was working. The antidote was working! Bokuto wanted to cheer, but it would be too soon to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi and Kenma turned to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy fucking shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It worked! It actually goddamn worked! Kuroo was just sitting there with the incredulous smile, while Bokuto felt like pumping his fist into the air, barely able to contain his excitement from bursting within. Of course, they felt glad that this whole ordeal was over, but they couldn’t help but feel just a little sad too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when they felt like cheering, Akaashi and Kenma spoke again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t like you, because we </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto and Kuroo froze, all the color draining from their faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking hell.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>here's my <a href="https://thegildedraven.carrd.co">socials</a>, where you can find me or my works</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. put them out of their misery please</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>in which Bokuto and Kuroo receive shocking news.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ohoho</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The place was agog with the buzz of patrons coming and going, the sound of light piano music filling the air. Servers walked around with silver trays, entirely too polite and quick to respond to your needs. The smell of food from neighboring tables wafted by, alighting their taste buds and sending their stomachs growling. There was a chandelier or two (or ten) dangling impressively from the ceiling, lighting the whole place in a warm yellow glow that eased under the smooth cotton tablecloths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a really nice restaurant, but Bokuto and Kuroo couldn’t bring themselves to enjoy it. They had been wrought by guilt and distress ever since their grand failure. Up till then, they had enjoyed their time with Akaashi and Kenma with the certainty that they would be able to undo the potion at the end of the day. Now that their certainty had been absolutely destroyed, they had nothing to go off of anymore, and they didn’t have the heart to enjoy Akaashi and Kenma’s affection anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the matter?” Akaashi asked. “You look down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, just have a lot on my mind.” Bokuto couldn’t even bring himself to look Akaashi in the eye anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi nodded, turning back to the menu.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure it’ll all go away soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto looked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, what would you like to eat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo wasn’t looking much happier himself. In fact, he looked downright miserable, even with Kenma stroking his hair and coaxing him to look at the menu.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything will do,” Bokuto said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get you all the dishes I personally recommend.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This restaurant was Akaashi’s suggestion in the first place. Neither Bokuto nor Kuroo’s tastes would have been so refined to even think of coming to such a fancy place. Countless times Akaashi had assured Bokuto that he need not sit ramrod straight, nor tuck a napkin into his collar or know the different types of forks or anything of the sort. Akaashi told him that they were just here to enjoy the food and the ambiance, and his voice was so convincing and soothing that Bokuto almost believed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll wait for the food to come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the meantime, we have a surprise for you two,” Kenma said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto and Kuroo looked like they just died and went to hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, we do,” Akaashi added. “I’m sure you will find it to be exactly what you need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unless they were going to magically produce a cure for the potion or tell Bokuto and Kuroo that they were miraculously healed, they doubted that the surprise would be what they needed right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to do the honors, Kozume-san?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gladly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma turned to face a very nervous Bokuto and Kuroo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto looked confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We already know that,” Kuroo said, looking immeasurably miserable. “You’ve told us that countless times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Kenma sighed. “We actually like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you think we were unaware of the love potion?” Akaashi gave them a coy grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>WHAT</b>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit down, Bokuto-san, people are staring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me get this straight, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>???” Kuroo burst out, earning a strange stare from a passing server. “This whole time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Kenma replied simply, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, I don’t get it,” Bokuto cried out. “How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were never under the influence of a love potion,” Akaashi explained. “We were merely trying to teach you two a lesson.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto looked like he wanted to tear his hair out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god.” Kuroo threw his hands up. “This whole time. We’re fucking fools.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree,” Kenma chimed in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess that’s fair, though,” Kuroo said. “But still!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we please rewind to the part where you said you </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked</span>
  </em>
  <span> us???” Bokuto said. “What does that mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think it means, Bokuto-san?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My heart is about to give out, I don’t think I can take too much false hope right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not false,” Akaashi said. He sounded like he couldn’t quite believe it either, but had long resigned himself to accepting the truth. “I do like you, and it’s not because of a love potion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kuroo, tell me I’m not hearing things,” Bokuto pleaded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure if </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> hearing things,” Kuroo said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m about to die,” Bokuto said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see the gates of heaven,” Kuroo quipped back reflexively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you two done yet?” Kenma raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, pretty much,” Kuroo whispered, as if speaking normally would break this dream he didn’t want to wake up from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so. I don’t need a love potion to know that I...like you,” Kenma admitted, slightly begrudgingly. “Can you like, not stare at me while I’m trying to pour my heart out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Kuroo whispered reverently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kuro, I think you’ve proven to me that I can, actually like you. At first you were just stupid and annoying, and you’re still stupid and annoying, but I kind of like that. I just thought it would be fun to mess with you after the whole love potion thing, but I wasn’t expecting to catch feelings for you along the way. There. That’s as much of a confession you’re going to get. I’m not saying any more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo slapped a hand over his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you’re talking about your feelings, kitten. I’m so proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That earned him a slap on his arm from Kenma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait! I still don’t get it,” Bokuto said, too hopelessly confused to show how happy he was for Kuroo. “If Kenma likes Kuroo because he’s stupid and annoying—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the point,” Kuroo protested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—then why do you like me, Akaashi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi smiled and shook his head. Bokuto’s confusion could be quite endearing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I could tell you more about how amazing I think you are, but I think I’ve done enough talking about what I truly think tonight. Some things should be left to be said in </span>
  <em>
    <span>private</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get a room,” Kenma said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo snickered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does this mean we’re dating now?” Bokuto whispered, eyes widened in disbelief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi gestured around the restaurant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think we’re doing right now, Bokuto-san?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto squeaked and buried his face in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you tell me it was a date? I would’ve bought you flowers, or chocolates, or tea, or another plant, or something that you like!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would have defeated the whole purpose,” Akaashi said, a fond grin on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have something to say too,” Kuroo said, giving Bokuto a look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we’re sorry,” Bokuto said. “For everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re sorry for feeding you a love potion,” Kuroo continued. “It was wrong, and reckless, and stupid of us to stoop to such lowdown tactics. I’ve definitely learnt my lesson, after the tens of thousands of heart attacks you two have given us. We were going to beg for your forgiveness once we had undone the potion, but once we realized that we couldn’t undo it we were </span>
  <em>
    <span>miserable</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So yeah, I guess that was fair, teaching us a lesson. With that said, this whole thing was Bokuto’s idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Bokuto retorted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I was involved too, so it was my fault as well,” Kuroo added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear we’re never doing that again,” Bokuto exclaimed. “I don’t know what I was thinking, but I’ll never think of it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi and Kenma shared a look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for apologizing,” Akaashi began. “We accept your apology.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma slumped down in his chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was too much talking, can we please just eat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we deserve it,” Akaashi said. “Let’s eat.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>here's my <a href="https://thegildedraven.carrd.co">socials</a>, where you can find me or my works</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. cup of tea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>in which Bokuto returns to work and things return to normal, or so it seems.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ahhh here we are. thanks for following me on this journey, this fic is. on crack</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The coffee machine dinged. They were playing old tunes today, all the jammy ones that made Bokuto want to dance along as he worked. The morning was just beginning, and his spirits were as high as the notes crooning through the speakers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it?” Konoha came into the back to check in on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto held up the Caramel Cream Crusade with a beam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup, I think I got it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Konoha gave him a proud smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go take orders, you’ve earned it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto jumped up and offered him a fist bump, which Konoha gladly returned. He shimmied his way out to the front, putting on his best, customer-greeting smile. Things were looking up from here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bo-kun!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tsum-tsum!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now this was familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The usual?” Bokuto asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know me,” Atsumu said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ever settled the milk debate?” Bokuto ventured to ask. Atsumu was looking to be in a good mood, so Bokuto figured that now was as good a time to satiate his curiosity as ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve settled for agreeing that almond milk is good,” Atsumu concluded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was as much of an explanation as Bokuto was going to get.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto chuckled, handing Atsumu his drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a nice day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too.” Atsumu grinned, turning to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spun around, as if remembering something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say, did ya ever do anything about that drink I asked you about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah,” Bokuto said, nodding seriously. “I tried it alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? That so? Did it work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope!” Bokuto exclaimed, a smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked to the back of the cafe, where a certain raven-haired beauty was enjoying his tea. Akaashi caught Bokuto’s eyes, and gave him a light wave, a small smile on his face. Bokuto grinned even wider, and waved back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu gave him a weird look. He would ask further questions, but it was Bokuto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto sighed dreamily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was Atsumu’s cue to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the sun crept higher in the sky and the light spilled in through the grand glass windows of the cafe, balance had been restored to not two, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>four</span>
  </em>
  <span> lives and hearts.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>here's my <a href="https://thegildedraven.carrd.co">socials</a>, where you can find me or my works</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>here's my <a href="https://thegildedraven.carrd.co">socials</a>, where you can find me or my works</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>